I Box Up All the Butterflies - The Boy Least Likely To, Peter Hobbs, Jof Owen

I find it difficult to

Relax in the summertime

With all the flowers in bloom

I creep across the countryside

With my net and my bait

And a pocketful of bailer twine

I break the promises I made

As I box up all the butterflies

I ruin

Everything

As I sit in a field of grass

In the spring

Listening

To the beat of its little heart

And to its wings

Struggling

For air under an upturned glass

And I put a pin

Through its wings

And I bottle it up

I box it up

And bury it in my heart

Just as I know my friends

I also know my enemies

Are the birds and the bees

And my own little insecurities

I creep around in the dark

And I tear up all the dandelions

And I break my own heart

As I box up all the butterflies

Tirelessly

Following

Its tiny butterfly tracks

Across the field in the spring

With a plastic carrier bag

Full of fish

Hooks, and string

I lay a little matchbox trap

And I put pin

Through its wings

And I bottle it up

I box it up

And bury it in my heart

I folded up its furry wings

And opened up its little heart

It might sound stupid

But something about it made me want to pull it apart

I ruin

Everything

As I sit in a field of grass

In the spring

Listening

To the beat of its little heart

And to its wings

Struggling

For air under an upturned glass

And I put a pin through its wing

And I bottle it up

I box it up

And bury it in my heart