The Dance of Butterflies
A bud blossoms beauty in the prime of spring,
sways as a beguiled ballerina in the amorous air,
enchanted in the middle of the night when the moon sings
for the flower to swing in its refrain with luring flair.
I see in the blooming patina the glimmer of godly grace,
as with boundless joy the butterflies dance.
When the flower folds the pristine petals in midnight hour,
the bunch of butterflies making lilting aerial lattice,
entwined with the sailing sequins of the sonorous moon dust,
flitters in its cadence searching for the floral fragrance.
I see heavenly beauty in the scene sublime,
as with everlasting exuberance the butterflies dance.
When the rippling wind sings the moonshine melody,
sparkling lines of sliver lace dulcet design in drifting cloud,
reflected subtly in the mesmeric motif of the butterfly wings,
fluttering in the tempting tune of the mystique moon song.
I see in the midnight hour the image of bliss in the divine glow,
as with rapturous rhythm the butterflies dance.
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