Tuesday, October 8, 2013

The Butterfly

Neither can’t you judge me from my present
Nor can you judge from my past.
Before I’d spread my wings,
And amazed you with my splendid colors.
I was just an ugly moth,
Amongst millions, doting the face of earth.

I am not what you see
I was not what you saw
Change is the nature’s law
I practice it without flaw.

My past speaks nothing of my present
My present doesn’t represent my past.
If I am flying today with color
I shall never forget the day I was pupa.

© Tarun Mitra