A Letter from the Butterfly

And She Said:

"The mighty pen stands alone

its glory days are over

The brush with paper, the touch of ink no more

it stays inside its cover

The human speaks of numbers and words

that the pen knew not of before

There is a buzz of gadget, the glare of its screen

no bits of paper that rolled and tore

The fingers that held this pen with love

now do a tapping dance

There's a buoyancy in his fingers

but of its presence in the heart, there is a milder chance

The human may one day stop ignoring his pen

or it may become a bit too late

Till then, work, as men would like it said

keeps the pen in a lonesome wait"

But darling butterfly, dont you know?

 

"There was a dream once, 

worthy enough to be chased
And pen in hand, 

after it I'd raced
 

There was a dream once, 

that filled me with glee
And with words strung together, 

my spirit would roam free
 

There was a dream once 

and she gave  my life meaning
But she walked away once, 

whilst I was still dreaming
 

There was a dream once 

but when it lay shattered I asked what went wrong
And she told me, 

life is more than just words, rhymes and a song
 

There was a dream once 

but reality came calling
Said I was stumbling too much, 

said I was free falling
 

I walk with open eyes now, 

mindful of worldly viles and worldly gains
There was a dream once 

but of it now, only a memory remains..."