A Butterfly

Hello, dear winged wanderer! You flutter through gardens, carefree and light, Though many long for your gentle presence. I wonder, have you left behind a gift, A trace of beauty so pure, That draws us to you again and again? You are a delight, Your painted wings, your effortless glides, A muse reborn in a poet’s mind, A flame rekindled in quiet reverie. Once, not long ago, your form was unremarkable, Unnoticed, perhaps even despised. Yet at the golden break of dawn, You transform, A creature of splendor, a bearer of wings, A solemn guest in my garden. But beauty is fleeting, Gone before the moon completes its celestial turn. A life, so like our own, Marked by love and disdain at different times. Yet, does it matter? You will remain beautiful until the end, And that, dear winged wanderer, Is why we envy you.