So many of us just know,
We are just time travelers.
Her feet had carried her more steps,
then she had thought possible today.
The Sun’s warmth above her all the way,
She resides composed on a park bench of blue and gray
Minutes go by and she does not move,
except her eyes scan left and right.
Minutes go by,
an orange Monarch Butterfly bounces its wing on her left hand,
acting as if it wanted to stay, hopefully to live for just one more day.
Minutes go by,
Time is transient like the migration of Madam Butterfly.
Sunshine starts to wain in the western sky,
Mother nature will always have her manner of doing and saying,
It’s time to get up and go toward home,
But if she does both must go,
Madam Monarch looking for Milkweed plants,
And she for her own special friend…
Just let a few more minutes’ slip from the warm sky.
Sitting perfectly still.
A bumble bee lands on her right grass stained knee.
Life is this way,
Minutes with a bumble bee
So little time for Madam Butterfly and me.
Thomas Kemp/poet/03/03/2016
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