Poem about butterflies

 

Butterflies

They drift like thoughts on summer air,
With painted wings beyond compare—
A whisper born of sky and bloom,
Soft messengers in nature’s room.

Each flutter speaks of silent grace,
A fleeting brush, a warm embrace.
No need for maps, they find their way,
From bud to breeze, from night to day.

In gardens deep or meadows wide,
They dance where sunlight dares to hide.
Their colors—hope, their motion—peace,
A moment’s joy that will not cease.

Born from stillness, freed from thread,
They rise from what was once near dead.
And in their flight, they seem to show
The beauty found in letting go.