You are a butterfly I do declare, as social and as avid as can be. It seems cocooned, you had no chance in there, until you found your milkweed; poetry. To flowers you now visit and adorn - to meadows now search for warmth and flame - to this new world it seems to have been born - fly on, my friend, go make yourself a name! The summer's yours to frolic, flirt, and flap. You'll rise and dip through honeysuckle mists. You've endless streams of love you've left to tap - just be aware of autumn and its trysts. Too soon the seasons change and trees undress - you are a butterfly, I do profess.
