I gathered up
The frilly bits of my skirt
And ran down the cobblestone path.
I reached the familiar creek
And sat down admist the
dew kissed grass,
I watched as all the butterflies
of pinks and purples, reds and yellows,
performed their brilliant ballet,
to the flute of the wind
When it blows through the reeds.
The sun slowely set behind
the purple mountains
And all of the sky was a pallet
of pinks and purples, reds and yellows.
If only people were like the sky.
If only people were like the butterflies.
 
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