In meadows where the wildflowers bloom,
Butterflies dance in the afternoon.
Their wings, a palette of vibrant hues,
Paint the sky in soft, delicate blues.

Fluttering lightly on the summer breeze,
They whisper secrets to the trees.
With every graceful, gentle glide,
They spread their joy both far and wide.

Beneath the golden, warming sun,
They tell stories of days begun.
Each flutter, a chapter in their tale,
Of beauty’s journey through the vale.

As twilight spreads its crimson veil,
They rest on flowers, calm and frail.
Their dance a memory, sweet and light,
A fleeting kiss of day to night.