Looking back I really hate myself
That adventurous young teen
That explored the woods and fields
Hoping to find butterlies
To take them home, pinning them
In a box to display the all to see
Getting lists of lists of those rare ones
That might be found in the woods
Or skimming over the ponds or streams
Just a short distant walk from home
They were of course beautiful
But not so much when they were dead
And now in my advanced years
I very much enjoy seeing them fly
Flitting over the garden flowers
Tasting the many plants nectar
But lasting little more that summer
Before time is called for them
As cool autumn says time is up
And their offspring breed next year
