A butterfly 

flits and flitters

not ’round a single flower.

It goes from one to the other

and from that other to another.

A butterfly

spends its short-lived life

‘midst blossoms,

and my life was such.

But when I vowed to thee,

my wings were clipped

and I was no longer free.

But I am a butterfly!

Must you ask 

why I cry

as I watch my wings

get weathered

or get misty eyed

when you call me 

to come hither?

I tell you,

my wings will soon be tattered,

my scales will all be scattered.

My time will run out fast

and I will be 

just another butterfly 

you kept in a glass.