Green butterflies and orange dreams,
Walk by my window sill when morning -
Steps out into the lilac shaded
Garden with purple tulips dancing.
The chirps of the crimson billed
Birds whose little corundum claws
Scratch the back of the cinnamon
Tree that still stands there...
That has stood by for many years,
A witness to all the several days,
When the saffron caterpillars
Crawled ever so slow along its edges,
To find the multitude of reality
That they realized existed...
Beyond their screened grey vision.
Winged angels, travellers of far,
To leap, to dream, to float, to fly!
And while I idle away on the bed,
Letting in the morning's many hues
I almost sit up and consummate
The myriad tiny thoughts in my head,
My fingers stroll the wooden bars
And they almost leap with hysteria...
The cognition of happy truth sinks
To make me wonder, smile and think
I too can leap, dream, float, fly...
Let go of the forbidding shell,
And fly away like a lemon butterfly.