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.