In the hush of morning’s gentle embrace,
Butterflies awaken from slumbered grace.
Their wings, painted in nature’s own hue,
Flutter softly through the dew.

They dance upon the whispering breeze,
A ballet of colors among the trees.
In gardens where dreams are sown,
Their fleeting beauty is gently shown.

Sunlight drapes them in golden light,
As they weave through shadows bright.
In the heart’s meadow, they find their place,
A silent symphony of delicate grace.

Oh, to be as free as these gentle things,
To soar with dreams upon fragile wings.
In the world where butterflies softly fly,
Hope and wonder shall never die.