They found a severed hand in the woods
Somebody had left it in a shoebox
With little holes cut in the lid
As if the hand could breathe.
They argued about the hand at first
One of them wanted to tell the police
The other said it was good luck
To keep the hand around.
So they took the hand home, and
Kept it in their treehouse
Carefully hidden away
Until it started to rot
And their father found out
And went to fetch the sheriff
But when he returned
The hand had changed
From crumbling flesh and bone
Into a beautiful butterfly.