Twas the month before Christmas
Twas the month before Christmas and I dreaded the days,
That I knew I was facing – the holiday craze.
The stores were all filled with holiday lights,
In hopes of drawing customers by day and by night.
As others were making their holiday plans,
My heart was breaking – I couldn't understand.
I had lost my dear child just a few months before,
And I knew what my holiday had in store.
When out of nowhere, there arose such a sound,
I sprang to my feet and was looking around,
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash
The sight that I saw took my breath away,
And my tears turned to smiles in the light of the day.
When what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a cluster of butterflies fluttering near.
With beauty and grace they performed a dance,
I knew in a moment this wasn't by chance.
The hope that they gave me was a sign from above,
That my child was still near me and that I was loved.
The message they brought was my holiday gift,
And I cried when I saw them in spite of myself.
As I knelt closer to get a better view,
One allowed me to pet it – as if it knew –
That I needed the touch of its fragile wings,
To help me get through the holiday scene.
In the days that followed I carried the thought,
Of the message the butterflies left in my heart –
That no matter what happens or what days lie ahead,
Our children are with us – they're not really dead.
Yes, the message of the butterflies still rings in my ears,
A message of hope – a message so dear.
And I imagined they sang as they flew out of sight,
"To all bereaved parents – We love you tonight!"