The caterpillar
wriggles,on the ground,
an awkward style.
The stripes on him
look bold and big
not much to the liking.
He grows. Turns
beautiful overnight.
Attractive in ways.
The crawl becomes
a hop, then a fly
He takes on his wings.
The butterfly as seen
sucks the nectar
from the blossoms,
The colours on his wings
fascinate. The grace
overwhelms.
Meenas Poems 