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.