By David Milligan-Croft
A butterfly flew in from the Oasis garden
To the dimly lit cafe interior.
Realising its mistake, it immediately did a U-turn
And headed back the way it came;
Only to be met by a transparent wall.
Freedom was so close, yet so unfathomably far.
Its leopard-spotted wings beating hopelessly against glass.
I cupped my hand and trapped it between pane and flesh.
Gently, I closed my fingers around it, creating a cage.
As I walked back through the patio door,
I could feel its delicate wings frantically beating
Against the prison of my palm,
Desperately trying to escape my clutches.
Outside, I slowly unfurled my fingers
And watched it soar into the bright cerulean sky.
για τη δέκατη μούσα μου