Flapping their wings,
Noiselessly gliding,
I see them.
Dropping a tinge of colour
In a monotone concrete-scape,
I see them.
Spreading a magic
Of smiles around,
I see them.
Telling of what could come
Out of a cocoon,
I see them.
Knowing they see me,
Just like I see them,
I see the butterflies.
A Struggling Author 