The lines are spray painted on the field
The track loops back in on itself

We're running for gym class

Look it's a butterfly! I say
It follows me around the circle

My friends barely glance at it
But I see them every time
The orange and black one
the small white ones that chase each other
I see them every time

I can't take my eyes away
Tracing their paths higher and higher
Until finally they wink off into the distance

I've heard that butterflies are the souls of the dead come back to play
I've heard they are a symbol of innocence or of rebirth

But to me,
all they are is free.