She is like a butterfly,
A butterfly that sings,
Who came out of her cocoon,
And spread her lovely wings,
In the shadow of her lovely lady wings,
Is where I saw the beauty of little things.
Her flight is simple and yet it is divine,
And it’s in her eyes where I see the love flow like rhine.
It’s her little dance that makes one ponder
And makes thoughtful men wonder.
It’s not flowers where she sits,
It’s the dreams of many lads which every night she visits.
She needs to be treated gently,
As she is too delicate,
While expressing one’s love for her,
one fails to be eloquent.
Her absence is malady,
Her presence is remedy
She doesn’t live on nectar,
It’s love that she craves.
Not lives does she rescue,
Its souls that she saves.
I don’t know why they call it a butterfly,
While she actually flutters by….
This post is written by Isan Basu. Biker, movie buff, rock fan, happy go lucky, loves acting etc etc.
Artwork courtesy: Cheyenne Illustration