Love is illusive like a butterfly,
Beautiful at birth but quick to die.
Lowly in nature but learns to fly,
Giving brilliance of color to the naked eye.
Through grace and beauty its’ life is lived,
Fluttering in the breeze for all to see,
How can a small miracle of birth begin?
They die only to be born again.
Jun 23, 2011
Jun 23, 2011 at 11:32 AM UTC
Love is illusive like a butterfly,
Beautiful at birth but quick to die.
Lowly in nature but learns to fly,
Giving brilliance of color to the naked eye.
Through grace and beauty its’ life is lived,
Fluttering in the breeze for all to see,
How can a small miracle of birth begin?
They die only to be born again.