Pink Butterflies

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Catching pink butterflies on a cold winter day.
Walking to far into the grey you’ve lost your way.
They searched and called out for you.
Run, you run deeper into the abyss.
Seeking the feeling of bliss.
Looking everywhere and calling out for that pink butterfly.
Laying on a hill staring at the grey sky, you starts to cry.
Have you lost it before you had it?
That pink butterfly, so delicate, so shy.
You will never catch it being the thorn on a red rose bush.
Sitting and waiting for that touch to push.
Wanting to dig deep into the soft and red.
To let the naive love seep down and spread.
Taking the heart, the soul and the mind.
Have you lost it before you had it?
They call, you stares blankly and still you sits.
No longer wanting to run.
Rather catch purple butterflies in the sun.
Turn back and walk away from the grey.
You know you lost it before you had it.
That pink butterfly who would not commit.

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