Real Freedom

In a beautiful garden I was,
Gently floating on the easy breeze,
Me a butterfly, feeding on a dandelion,
Up and down and east and west I swooped
I glided freely for what seemed an entire day
I seen a family spread out with their picnic enjoying the sun
But I moved to slow when he came over with his net,
The young boy had never seen such a creature with wings like blue steel
The father agreed this must be a rare breed, open the bottle son,
In a jar they put me,
I’m now in a shed, sat on the shelf
Old jam jars filled with nails,
Screws and rusty washers never to be used,
But I was still a butterfly
They couldn’t take that from me
My freedom was theirs,
My breath was my last
Spent my days trapped in a jar
All my life I remained a happy little creature,
Cause deep down I knew
I was a beautiful unique butterfly
I watched as my body was found seventy years later
I now spend my days in a glass case
Just me and the curator