They say that luck will stay where beauty smiles,
And you, I know, find luck in all you see,
I never dreamed your smile could be for me,
Yet felt a warmth that outshone heaven's dials.
A butterfly once landed in my palm;
Proclaiming I was blessed in nature's sight,
I drew her closer to me in delight,
And felt her shiver at the broken charm.
I smile now at that irony whereby,
The green-eyed wings, that so attracted me
Would cause her to depart; but now I see:
What makes her lovely also makes her fly.
Sweet butterfly that tarried but a day,
I never meant to frighten you away.

Nik Trevallyn-Jones, 1996