We fly, we dance, we live.
We are fleeting, our beauty remembered.
There is double power in reflection.
If you see us hovering over water
Make a wish, it will come true.
Foolish thought, you’re thinking.
How do you suppose I became this way?
My wish was to fly.
Here I am in blue splendour.
Before my time is up, I will wish again
To be as I was, with a life of a butterfly remembered…
© Anita Dawes 2021