Upon the breeze, so light and free,
A butterfly flits, joyously.
Its wings of silk, a painter’s stroke,
With colors bright, they gently spoke.

Through fields of green, it finds its way,
From dawn’s first light to close of day.
A silent song, it carries near,
Of summer’s warmth and skies so clear.

On petals soft, it softly lands,
A fleeting touch from gentle hands.
In nature’s dance, it plays its part,
A fragile beat of nature’s heart.

Yet seasons change, and time moves on,
The butterfly will soon be gone.
But in its wake, it leaves behind,
A memory, to hearts entwined.