There is a butterfly that's red,
It landed on the tip of my nose,
I notice the rims of the wings are blue,
Like it froze.
Such a beautiful azure hue,
Such a short and sorrowful life it lead.

With a flap of its wings it flew away,
Fluttering away, into the sky.
Wasting not one moment of time,
Know why?
'Tis an unforgivable crime,
To gamble away even one day.

A day that it doesn't possess,
That it can't afford to misuse,
Its life is too short for messing around,
Can't be abused.
To this restriction 'tis forever bound,
That it has not one second excess.

When you see it fluttering by,
Whistling silent song so profound
For the time that you have, pause to hear
That beautiful sound
That doesn't easily seem too clear
The lamenting of the butterfly.

Penned by my hand on the 2nd of Aeguary, in the year 381 AF.