Flitting here, floating there, moving on the breeze
pastures new, petal dew, such short time to seize
seldom settled, always searching, elusive joy to find
hopes held high, pie in the sky, always on our minds.
You broke our hearts, constant new starts
never able to cross that line
to fulfil your dreams, but so it seems
you finally ran out of time.
So when I see a butterfly flying
a white one, all alone
I close my eyes and cry at your dying
and just wonder where you have flown?