A mind racing is a wonderful thing, flying down alleys of to-do and don’ts. Never slowing or lighting anywhere for long. A beautiful butterfly blown off a nectar-filled blossom, before she could pause for a long, satisfying drink. The wind tosses her in a tumbling torrent, gold and green leaves whirl around.
” Where can I land ‘fore Wind takes me again?”
She crysSo sadly for nobody’s there
Exerting her strength , with furrowed butterfly brow, she goes for a final big push!
Wings flutter madly, but the gusts treat her badly:
She’s torn rudely away from the butterfly bush!
