I heard you butterfly, a lot;
And took you soon, to my mind.
And took you soon, to my mind.
I made monasteries of love, to care
And nestled with you, there in mind.
I was in dream of your beauty,
And enjoyed the tint of dance in my lap.
You lost me now, with a slice of heart,
And failed to withhold the burning of wounded heart.
You chased me for a long, with the sizzling memories of yours;
And I peeped back at last, to find you again.
You lost a wing, with the wrinkling cops I got,
And a creed of ants, creeping around.
I searched a lot, for the wing you missed,
And it found at last, from the river Nyle.
Embracing with a died drop of sweat,
That I lost during my past.

