poetry

The Butterflies
That flutter by
They flap their wings
Up in the sky
Sometime I wish
But dare not try
To live the life
Of a butterfly

Their gentle wings
Of gold and blue
And red and green
Such lovely hues
So delicate
Their wings may be
But up they fly
So high and free

As they glide by
Without a care
Just like blossoms
That float on air
And they float down
To green bowers
To drink the nectar
Of some flowers

When flowers spring up from the ground
New life emerges all around
As wind blows gently through the trees
It's time to bend and shake those knees
In the fields, like swaying grass
Sway side to side, slowly then fast
All leap around without a care
Like blossoms floating in the air
Now get together, form a ring
It's time to do the dance of spring!

Here's a song about some flowers
Growing with each springtime shower
They bring fresh colours each new hour
Red and pink and yellow and blue
All paint the fields with lovely hues

Bluebells, Bluebottles, so much blue!
They sparkle with fresh morning dew
Blue petalled faces smile for you
Rubbing gently against your feet
Blue woodland carpets smell so sweet

I thail nín thithin erin Amar •
My small feet on the ground
Bain! •
Wonderful!
Mathon i lith da thellyn nín •
Feeling the sand against my soles
limp a rhing ••
Wet and cold.

Naruvir is often heard singing and reciting old poetry amid her own natural novelty, and this is no exception. Every wordplay offers a fair insight to her playful and youthful mind. She sang the following by the feet of a waterfall:

The Piem

Bring out the pie
Raise it up high
Up to the sky
A sight for sore eyes!

Put down that pie
Tempting, it lies
Keep off the flies!
From spoiling that pie

Look at the pie
The time is nigh
Take some to try,
No need to ask why!

Eat up the pie
Wave it goodbye!
Lick the plate dry,
With contented sigh

There's no more pie
Call out "oh my!"
It makes you cry
For more of that pie!