What a lie
that I can own the moon,
The untruth
Which makes me think
I can hold the sun

It is selfishness
To believe
that someone feels
As I do
Or expect that love
Will return
Just as light arrives
On a brand new day

Seeing the green grass
Grow to only whither
As winters wind
Begins to blow,
The heart felt chilling
Bitter cold
Which steals away
Springs green glow

How can the freedom
Of truth be known,
When still staring
Into the heart
Of the storm
That is sure to come

Is the sun shining
On the other side,
I don't really know
If my thoughts
Of lasting love
Will die as autumn foliage
sprouting new buds
On the days of sun

All I can do
Is watch the seasons
Come and go,
For I have no control
Of the out come,
I can only hope
That I will get to see
Once again the fluttering
Of a butterfly

As I wait for the cocoon
Of spring to arrive.

Is this just a dream
Of when I was young
Does the butterfly
Really exist in a place
Where I can sit
And just watch it fly
Or has that butterfly
Already passed me by