Just butterflies shudder these lilac skies
as our little black books flutter
for a beauty that can forge through utter
cynical views of me and you
and break through wall to burst through

Is it the chase, we all aspire
Paris night, in evening attire

She bottles it up and sells it for gold
a magical ride, for the young and old
and when I remember, I smile to myself
of a chance once taken, not left on a shelf

Until the stars fall
or innocence sets in my eyes
I continue to waltz
In search of butterflies