Freedom

37 8 2
                                        

Butterfly, butterfly,
Reaching so high into the sky.

Although your freedom lasts a few days,
You don't waste any; you don't waste away.

Blue and black and orange and green,
They have escaped from humanity's machine.

Fly so high, I'll observe you in the sky,
Dainty and beautiful, so I ask myself why?

Oh how can I love anything else dearly,
When you hold my heart and captivate it so queerly?

Time cannot hold you down,
Your patterns cannot begrudge a frown.

So butterfly, butterfly, butterfly in the air,
Be freer than me, be free if you dare.

Optimistic PessimismWhere stories live. Discover now