A Golden Butterfly

As she to brightened petals flits,

Her golden hue on blossoms lits;.

‘Twixt thorny earth and sapphire skies;

On paper wings, she trembling flies.

She is the sun in wings and gold.

She is its light to shine, its mold;

She cannot fall, not tossed is she

By wind and rain and tragedy.

So fair she shines, far fairer still

Than those with painted spot and frill;

She does not hide, nor mirror, light,

But glows with it –a sun in flight.

But swift she moves; sun well conceals

What thorns to her have done, (time heals

 And lets light, glowing, through her shine)

But, closer, you may see the sign—

The mark of times when storms grew strong,

When earth had trapped her for too long;

The price of freedom (all that matters):

These ancient tears; her wings in tatters.

So upward, steadily, she goes;

She flutters on, and this she knows:

For every trouble she now bears

The sun shines brighter through the tears.