‘Finding Me’


I thought  I was the butterfly

fluttering against  the pane

to seek an opening through

and hide  my deckle edged wings

among spotted  ragged leaves

in a tangled land  of bramble

I thought I was the moth-

a kind of butterfly goth,

strange outlier of the night,

waiting for the light,

unfurled  at last from my cocoon

And reaching for the moon

I thought I was the bee

in a shape shifting swarm,

searching for a new place

where I would feel at home-

A hive filled with the golden hum

of sweetness and activity

I thought I was the tree

with bare and broken bough

But where the wind tore

parts of me away I saw-

the tiny buds of hopeful  leaves

And a different story grow


I thought I was a metaphor-

that I could metamorphose

into something more,

and with morse code marks

create an allegory.

But I reached another page

and realised  after all-

  that I was simply…  me



Ann Blockley 2017- A first poem

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