In gardens fair where blossoms bloom,
Beneath the golden sun’s embrace,
The butterflies in colors plume,
Begin their dance with gentle grace.

Their wings, a tapestry of light,
They flutter by like dreams in flight,
Through meadows green and skies so bright,
Painting the day with sheer delight.

In whispers soft, the flowers sway,
As butterflies weave through the air,
Their fleeting presence in the day,
A moment’s beauty, pure and rare.

Though brief their time, they leave a trace,
Of wonder in the hearts they meet,
A fragile dance, a tender grace,
A memory both sweet and fleet.