She
She is just a butterfly,
A creature of the sky.
Soaring high,
Seven days before she dies.
Wrap up in a cocoon,
She fought her way to bloom.
It took her months to portray her beauty,
All creatures envy.
Parading her delicate wings,
More precious than the treasures of kings.
Her colours reflect the rainbow,
On a petal she loves to show.
Fly high, my butterfly,
Fly high, before you die.
Enjoy the splendour of Gods’ creation,
That most mundane left in devastation.
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