In the middle of our porridge plates
There was a blue butterfly painted
And each morning we tried
Who should reach the
Then the Grandmother said:
"Do not eat the poor butterfly."
That made us laugh.
Always she said it and
Always it started us laughing.
It seemed such a sweet little joke.
I was certain that one fine morning
The butterfly would fly out of our plates,
Laughing the teeniest laugh in the world,
And perch on the Grandmother's lap.
Written by New Zealand author Katherine Mansfield.
Read by Lisa Yannucci.
Thanks and Acknowledgements
Image composed by Lisa.