Time is a butter fly,
that hovers over a flower
Landing on it petals,
to extract it nectars
in a steady still,
that takes forever,
A twitch of an eye,
the butterfly is gone
sauved by the wind
into the thin air,
never to be seen
Time is a butterfly,
that reveals it beauty wings
in warming and charming seasons, only to Carried away,
by the breeze
Dancing on the air,
clapping her wings,
waffling around,
in search of no home
Time is a butterfly,
though weavers,
reaches its zone
©iam.a.poet
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