I sat and watched a butterfly
over the grass, among the blooms
and suddenly I wanted too to fly
over the fears, above the gloom.
Unlike him, I have no wings
just sunburn and rough skin
on my back; no gossamer things
that might lift and bring me in
to that world free of worries
where he delicately floats by.
In his lazy way he never hurries
he just wanders carelessly in the sky.
