Butterfly ( from a beetle)
Winged tiger, you fly above the
vibrant colours of the meadow.
Your gorgeous wings beat furiously, and my breath catches.
You cannot fall, you must not.
You land on a beautiful violet, but it pales in comparison with you.
Its colour fades to a murky grey, but you remain as beautiful as the sunrise.
No, more beautiful. Nothing can compare.
If I were a flower, I would happily
die in the hail, or the snow,
Or even the blistering heat of the sun.
If only to be tasted, just considered once by you.
For if you tasted me, I would gladly wither, and rot away into the warm earth.
But you ignore me, and my dream will lie unfulfilled.