No, said the butterfly. That home is yours.
My home is vast as the starry outdoors.
You sleep indoors and are free from all harm.
My wings wrapped around me; they keep me warm.
Trapped in a jar I will be kept from flight.
I must remain free, even if stormy night.
They’re different that way, my wings and your feet,
Click Follow to receive emails when this author adds content on Bublish