The Nettle and the Butterfly

Densely does the nettle grow
Ever so green like thistle
And it clings to everything
Dancing around, shoulders gripped
Enluring the gazer’s eye
Never to cease

The buttefly, frail and free
Happened to catch the sight
Everlasting

Dreaming a pretty dreamy dream
Ravishingly dashing she flies
Enthusiastically winged
And daringly close she dances
Malicious tunes from the nettle
Strikes without mercy

’Oh, nettle, you seem to have caught me
Friend, so let me loose; let go!’

Flapping her beautiful wings
Rendered is the butterfly
Ethically begging for release
Ethnically praying for her grace
Deadening, numb and bitter weak
’Oh, nettle, my love, I am dying’
’My pleasure, my beautiful’.