So many feelings comes surging
Breaking all the inhibitions
Every word cocooning those moments
Each of them a luminous sparkle of the soul
Flowing through the veins
Reminding you of the special moments
Waiting to be chronicled as a memoir
Taking up the pen
Connecting your soul with the paper
Every drop of ink carrying your inner world
Drawing a vivid sketch of your feelings
Wholeheartedly soaked in the ambiance
The white paper now colored with memories
Once staring at the blankness
You can see the words dancing to your tune
Pen moves like a magic wand
As you breathe life on the paper
With those precious feelings
Swathing it with your inner luminosity

Sweet Butterfly, with wings now dry 'tis time to break away
and light upon the leaves of dawn while weeping willows sway,
not reminisce 'bout chrysalis discarded yesterday,
but treasure life, with colors rife in nature's cabaret.

Sweet Butterfly, you sometimes sigh "terrene so strange and new”,
but take a chance, with winged expanse of fairy-like bijou,
to taste delight in random flight, to drift beyond the blue
and then collect her naked nectar, sipped in morning dew.

Sweet Butterfly, you question why the breeze is seldom soft
when swirling you, your wings askew, while floating free aloft.
Some seem to find their peace of mind believing gods have coughed,
but others, downed, have often found more freedom when they've scoffed.

Sweet Butterfly, you needn't cry, the fields are full of clover,
and meadowlands bare braided strands that winds in waves flow over -
but if you fear that, more than here, another mead is mauver,
just flutter by, beneath the sky, unfettered flitting rover.

Sweet Butterfly, farewell, goodbye, you've left this world behind.
I oft gaze back along the track of flowers that you've mined
recalling days of light sashays and movements unconfined
that complement the firmament where beauty lies enshrined.