A Butterfly on the Wall
I have a butterfly on my wall.
It's made of bits of tissue, construction paper,
Pipe cleaners,
And love.
Its toilet paper tube body has drooped,
Been patched and drooped some more.
It's even fallen off.
But the butterfly on my wall continues
To live.
It has moved from house to house,
Room to room.
Once a little girl took it away entirely,
To punish me.
But I wanted it back
And she gave it back mysteriously.
My butterfly on the wall.
My butterfly on the wall
Has a crooked penciled-on smile and 2 eyes.
It's forever smiling,
Unlike the little girl who gave it to me.
She smiles less these days,
And her smiles don't go very deep.
Sad smiles of a lost lonely girl.
I love my butterfly on the wall,
But I love the little girl more.
She loved me once, too,
Before she found the world.
Someday I think all I have
Is a butterfly on the wall.
Where is the little girl who gave it to me?
Lonely butterfly on the wall.