where are those flimsy flutterbys
that grace my summer garden fair
where are those precious spirit friends
whose fragile wings caress the air
the scented flowers stand and stare
as I do too this fragrant day
i’m told the weather wet in spring
has changed the timings
caused delay
the cabbage white adonis blues
the painted ladies can’t be seen
and yet the flora thrives so well
the grass is lush the ivy green
our buddleia it softly sighs
as morning dew has teared its eyes
my flower garden mourns this loss
of all those lovely butterflies