All alone these halls I roam,
I wish I could see the butterfly's home.
A butterfly's home,
He's all alone.
For there's nothing much to condone.
Pansies', roses' and dandelions' show.
Butterflies fly until the winds blow.
Flying free as he could be,
I wish to be just like thee.
He lives in the bright lit fields where the flowers grow,
They seem to glow.
Dancing freely in the breeze, I wish to be just like thee.

© ST.Mortenson