Butterfly

He was born a long, ugly worm,

With many legs and a head- big & round,

He saw many beautiful insects around,

His appearance was pitiful, so his sorrow profound.

In this dreary world he was all alone,

Hiding from the predators, he was on his own,

He wriggled his way to find a cosy leaf,

To weave a blanket, to help him sleep.

As he slept, he grew in size,

To remain in the cocoon was no longer wise,

The blanket had now become his noose,

He banged with his head to cut loose.

As he emerged, he saw day light,

He found he had become colourful and bright,

His body had become firm and strong,

A pair of wings he now adorned.

He flapped his wings and took a dive,

It was now or never, he had to try,

A few flutters and he learnt to fly,

And then he was up, up in the sky.

From there the world seemed renewed,

No sight of the mud, sludge or smoky hue,

The colours were vivid much to his delight,

Here everything was a divine sight.

It was the world he deserved to be in,

To get there he had overcome suffering,

He never gave up in struggle and strife,

And now he was free, to fly, all his life.

Waking up the flowers in the morning dew,

Greeting the birds with confidence anew,

He was now flying high, all over the sky,

For the ugly worm had transformed into a beautiful butterfly.