To catch a butterfly
He vainly tries
Upon wings of Summer
Through childlike eyes
The busy flight
Of a thousand years
A deep millenia
Like chasing stars.
The swaying blooms
Within the breeze
Scented flowers
Trees of green
Whose sparkling leaves
Helicoptor wings
A certain magic
In such things.
To fall but lightly
As gentle words
Whose melody
In softness turns
To face the butterfly
On gossamer wings
Its fluid flight
In childhood springs.