Frail little butterfly, Wither do you go? Your beautiful wings flutter With the winding patterns donned With fantasy. You fly from flower To flower Where goes my lady, Free and full of grace, Abandoning all strings Out to meet the Sun's rays?
Of the tinge of happiness you gladly left Behind, of what shall I do with it? It shall waste away as you pass by the window, Never to return again.
You settled on the window sill one day, With your partner at your side, I baked and cooked and You wavered not when the metal tray fell.
I watched you closely and intently. You stood there, slowly fluttering your brilliant gifts That fill me with such wonder By just you. A butterfly.