They say butterflies do not appear in Venice
But I saw one.
In the hot heat of summer,
Past the rickety abandoned homes
While passing through yet another alley
Of vintage clothing shops.
It flew and fluttered in a fragile nature
Right past my head and
Strangers overlooked it,
But I marveled in its beauty while
They talked about the bridges that were
Under our feet and the
Gondolas that ventured past us.
They say this and that but
I fail to listen because
This and that simply means nonsense
Because I saw one.
In that moment he was there
Whispering sweet Italian lullabies
In my ear
La mia piccola farfalle.
And I felt at home
From hundreds of miles away.
They say butterflies do not appear in Venice
But I saw one.