DANCE OF THE GOLDEN BUTTERFLIES

I see the pale sun going down,

tired of all the sickness it sees.

I sense the exhausted wind dying down,

hurt by all the cruelty it feels.

I hear the sighs of wings flapping softly,

the birds are flying to the safety of homes.

I see the evening stars appearing one by one,

too afraid to witness the reign of darkness.

I see the moon dragging itself up from behind the trees,

petrified of another night’s travel.

I see the blue black sky spreading its wings,

failing badly in hiding the human misery.

The clock reverses,

And the dark blue sky pulls in its wings finally.

The tired moon goes to sleep beneath the horizon,

the lonely stars go off one by one.

The morning breeze slowly moves through the allegro,

and the sun opens his orange eyes.

I look around and see the resurrection of life,

the colours breakout in full bloom.

The blues were never so brilliant, the red never so radiant,

the greens were never so fresh, the yellows never so vibrant.

I see the golden butterflies dancing in the eyes of my children,

and life opens up to me, with a promise of love.