The butterfly, it spread its wings
A red and white mix – bright pink
He was ever so proud, of his colours so loud
Some would stop, stare, and then think
That if the butterfly lost its wings
It would mean he’d lose his voice
Because if colours could talk, then to be sure
This butterfly’s wings would sing
And if he lost his wings, he could not sing
He’d be bound to be bound to the ground
No longer would he win, or even make a sound
But the butterfly kept, his colourful wings
And he continued to beautifully sing