One sunny day, in mid July,
A flower met a butterfly.
The flower though was very shy,
So Butterfly then passed her by.
The flower gave a mournful sigh,
Because she also wished to fly.
She did not want to say good-bye,
She missed the little butterfly.
She did not weep, she did not cry,
She looked up at the sunny sky.
"I cannot fly, but I will try,
To make a friend before I die."
The next day came, and from the sky,
Who should come a-passing by,
But that same little butterfly?
The flower gave a happy cry.
"Remember me, Sir Butterfly?
We met yesterday, you and I.
I didn't talk, since I was shy,
And so you left, you had to fly."
"I remember," said Butterfly.
"I'll tell the truth, I will not lie,
But I myself am very shy,
And that is why I had to fly."
"Let us be friends now, you and I."
Said Flower to the butterfly.
"I may be shy, but I will try,
To be a true friend 'til I die."
"I'm so happy," was his reply.
"Together we will laugh and cry,
We'll talk of all under the sky,
And never shall we say goodbye."
So on that day in mid July,
The flower and the butterfly,
Became best friends, no longer shy.
Everlasting, as the vast sky.
I found this poem by 321Haruko123, thank you.
