I saw a butterfly flying to fall on my lap
scared perhaps curious
she was dead in my hands
'cause of these melancholy days
the sunlight shined on her
suddenly I asked myself
was she free?
I guess she was a little caterpillar
with no feeling the cold outer reality
but wings appeared from her back
wings painted of pretty drawings
drawings painted of beautiful colors
she learned to fly by herself
she traveled around the world
an unforgettable summer sky
a pure spring love
a soft autumn tear
and a last winter without snow
in the end she was free
flew and flew under the rain
over the clouds
until the death
I want to be like that butterfly....
meanwhile I will be daydreaming.