There was a blue butterfly,
At my sill I saw it land,
And felt an emotion then,
That I try to understand.

The next day I returned,
And my blue friend did appear,
Not with awe inspiring flight,
But with crippling despair.

A ripped wing made flight hard,
Still it tried to fly in vain,
I watched with sorrow here,
On this side of the window pane.

I thought of all the butterflies,
And wondered why they fly,
The ground is so much safer,
Yet I always see them try.

Some torn from the air by wind,
Others stunted during growth,
But like them we all must live,
Flying high as if by oath.