Cyril the Caterpillar

Cyril the Caterpillar

Cyril the caterpillar
crawled slow, from stem to stem,
cool as any cucumber,
for nothing bothered them.

Wondered when his wings would sprout,
as blue flies batted by,
he would give a rhubarb stalk
to be a butterfly.

Lord Sabastian Spider
wove webs beneath a leaf,
all insects were scared of him,
though with no sting or teeth.

Cyril woke up one morning
with twin wings on his back,
flew away a butterfly,
soon master of the knack.

Mabel Moth was proud of him,
said he flew fine with grace.
Impressed old Clive Centipede
with cabbage in his face.

Cyril winged high with Wendy,
above the river reeds,
merry to be butterflies,
at home among the weeds.

Loved Wendy since a larva,
glued to the grassy green,
more now he flew beside her,
she kept his instincts keen.

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