The Butterfly

As she drinks nectar from a flower, sweetness from heaven falls like dew anointed with a gentle rain amidst sun showers she appears as if on cue Lifting her wings she lands on a Zinnia beneath a tinted sky of April blue flight of fancy fanning fast, fabulous marvel, she is beauty true on true her wings shimmer and reflect the blue canopy sky and a lone white cloud, she is an arm of nature, grace, beauty in flight for a task, yet never ever loud. she has an array of coloured petals to alight across the meadows, from blue to yellow, white to rose, adding value and sweetness to each life as it flows. Stop! please do not touch her delicate wings with the rudeness of human touch, She is an art of creation at its best, a messenger of love so very much!