Butterflies & Feathers

A butterfly flew in the door, I knew it was my mum.

A visit dancing through, with lots of love and fun.

It’s good to see her flying now, no longer in her chair.

I’m happy that she’s healthy, since stepping over there.

~

Sometimes she’s a feather, so very light and bright.

She floats on air and drops on me, not a bird in sight.

It’s usually to tell me, that I’m heading the right way.

It’s how she keeps in contact, since she went away.

~

In winter she’s a robin, with breast of brightest red.

She sits upon the woodpile, sings while I’m in bed.

She’ll always come to see me, I know that to be true.

Until one day, I step behind, that same doorway too.

~