In the garden where dreams are spun,
Butterflies dance beneath the sun.
Their wings, like whispering leaves,
Tell tales of love and distant eves.

Fluttering softly through the air,
They paint the sky with colors rare.
Each motion, a gentle caress,
A silent song of pure finesse.

Amidst the flowers they find their rest,
In petals’ embrace, they build their nest.
Delicate creatures of day and night,
They bring the world a fleeting delight.

So let us cherish their fleeting grace,
For in their flight, we find our place.
In every flutter, a dream unfolds,
As butterflies weave stories untold.