By Ruth Calder Murphy (Arciemme)
“It’s dark in here,” said Grace the Grub,
and gave a sad and mournful wail.
“The ceiling’s sitting on my head
and there’s no room to move my tail.”
She struggled then and tried to move,
She banged her nose and scraped her side.
“I’m stuck.” She thought, and blinked back tears.
“I wish there was a door,” she sighed.”
Just then, she heard a tiny ‘crack!’
And sunlight peeped in through the wall.
“I’m saved!” she cried, “I’ll be ok.”
She wriggled, pushed and tried to crawl.
Then very slowly, bit by bit,
The crack came open like a door.
The ceiling moved, the walls broke up
And holes appeared across the floor.
She put her eye against the gap
And saw the far-off grassy ground.
“I hope I don’t fall all that way,”
she thought, and tried to turn around.
But at that moment, suddenly,
The crumbling floor and ceiling burst,
And as she tumbled through the air,
Poor Grace could only fear the worst.
“Oh help!” she cried, “I’m falling fast!”
I’ll never land alive and well!”
She plummeted towards the ground,
Her eyes shut tightly as she fell.
She shrugged her shoulders to her head,
As through the sunny sky she tore,
But all at once she realised
She wasn’t falling anymore.
Amazed, she turned her head to see,
And almost fainted at the sight,
For from her shoulders, colourful,
Two rainbowed wings spread bold and bright.
“I don’t believe it!” Grace exclaimed
And somersaulted on the breeze,
She danced across the daffodils
And fluttered high amongst the trees.
Across the pond she proudly flew
And saw her self reflected there.
“I really am amazing now!”
She shouted, shimmering through the air.
She settled on a summer flower
Beneath a spreading chestnut tree,
And Grace, the new-born butterfly
Was happy, beautiful and free.