Tear of a Butterfly
morning's delight
a ray not a fair
away from a time
the sun-rise apart
up to her high
an emotion too by...
tears were for wings
so easy to come
...has made in your hands
powder of glass
a touch which dissolves
and drank of your smile
hiding her face
to the side of the sun
late caught in a mind
the net her
wanderings designed
may tear these eyes
pieces of pieces of glide
on her way there's no wind
by the long here she comes
no home to take her a bus
she's dying in your fingers
with the colors the rain
paid her ecstasy to the sun
©arial.vas
