The flutter of her tiny wings,
Has a tune that burns to sing.
With every flower she sings a new song,
Her beauty eludes me and I am drawn.
I reach out to touch and hold her,
But she slips away into a blur.
I try to catch her again and again,
But my efforts seem to be in vain.
With sore legs and tired arms,
I decide to give up on her charms.
I turn around and close my eyes,
I no longer chase those butterflies.
As I turn to my work at hand,
The one that flew away decided to land.
I trace the colours of her vibrant wings,
I now hold in my hands this fragile thing.