the magpie, the crow, and the butterfly

there once was a disjointed butterfly, her wings lay slightly askew,
they were sewn into patchwork shadows you see, by the crow with sweet tinges of blue.
he made love to that disjointed butterfly, and breathed wind from mountains so high,
then one day our miss butterfly, acquainted my sir magpie.
'magpie, oh evil wizard' they named him, with seductive wings of white,
he cast spells on my sweet crow boy, and his disjointed butterfly took flight.
ensnared by the temptation of magpie, the butterfly lost her way,
concoctions of potions and poisons, disjointed wings started to flay.
that magpie was always alone you see, a sign of cursed luck in these parts,
and my crow boy watched on from a distance, as magpie broke butterfly's hearts.
crow captured our butterfly back one day, he carried her onto their nest,
she pleaded he stitch her together again, patchwork feathers clutched to her breast.
his needles lay rusting as antenna, so instead he opted for glue,
'out of love, out of love' he sang to her, and his wings grew slightly askew.

'who would have known, who would have known?' mountain folk spoke of him,
my dear crow with the sweet twinges of blue.



my sister lies on my mother's mattress as the magpie, my crow, and the disjointed butterfly.