In the morning light, they rise with grace,
Butterflies in a silent, delicate chase.
Wings of vibrant hues, a painter’s dream,
In the garden’s cradle, they gleam.

Among the flowers, they weave and glide,
A ballet of beauty, side by side.
Whispering secrets to the blooming rose,
In the language only nature knows.

Through the golden rays, they flutter and play,
A symphony of colors in a gentle sway.
Each movement a story, a fleeting kiss,
In the arms of the wind, they find their bliss.

As the sun sets, they rest their wings,
Dreaming of the dawn and what it brings.
In the quiet of night, they softly repose,
Awaiting the morning’s first, tender glow.