A little blue, a little green,
A little lifetime in between—
Between the first of summer’s storms
And the last of autumn’s warmth.
In lover’s green and loner’s blues
It flirted, fluttered, flitted through—
A pretty life, a pretty end,
Forever quiverless and spent.
I spotted a dead butterfly (or moth?) in the factory (as shown in the featured image) and wrote this little rhyme today. Having noticed the poem was 44-word long, I popped over to dVerse and wondered if it fitted the pub’s Quadrille Monday of the week—and it did. What’s more, the prompt word “quiver” made an even better ending than my original.