Awakened from slumber, she remembered the dream
She’s a drab, speckled-winged peppered moth
Trivial, unseen in the brown bark of the elm
A camouflaged moth, a trifling bubble in the froth...
In the dream a butterfly appears, wings fluttering
In the breeze, sparkling in the rays of the sun
Hues, patterns in its wings absolutely stunning
In the early morning sky, it mesmerizes everyone!
But she sees herself as a moth, it’s clear to see
Plain, colorless and unattractive to the eye
Though untrue, she accepted it, too willingly
She’s a brown moth; she’d never be a butterfly!
Yet others see her not as a mottled-winged moth
For she sings like an angel in the high heavens
She overflows with love, for everyone in her path
Her intellect brilliant; her heart pure in essence...
Truly, it’s not the beauty without that matters
It’s the beauty within us, the good that we bring
The people we touch, the lives we make better
The moments we live; that’s our heritage everlasting!
Moth she may be, concealed in the branch of a tree
She’s done wonderful things during her earthly stay
Silk fabrics of brilliant colors, designs for all to see!
But the butterfly is no more! At the end of the day
© Vic A Evora