Dear Gabrielle,
If I was an author I would call it: Butterflies at my fingers.
Here I made a song.
When I see my tears drop on the ground
My heart breaks and I fall
But I see a bit of hope
I stand up tall like a building high up in the sky
I see butterflies flying at the top
When I reach out they perch on my fingers
But when I flick my hand they go
I try my best to get them back
Instead I see a girl
She takes me alone
She takes me to a garden
Where I see my butterfly flying high

from Yvonne

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *