In the quiet garden's heart,
A sudden spark, a work of art.
With wings of lace and velvet gold,
A story in the sun is told.
They do not speak, they do not stay,
But drift upon the breath of day.
From bloom to bloom, a silent flight,
A flicker in the morning light.
A secret kept in colors bright,
Before they vanish from our sight.
To find a place where shadows grow,
And only soft-winged wanderers go.