butterfly

My wings flew me from places,
traveling above surfaces.
Scouting for,
a flower that does not bore.

Nothing less than perfect,
so I shall not regret.
The smell of blue, red and yellow,
the beauty that I desire to hold.

I dare the weather,
the scare and the bitter,
Though tiny and small,
I try not to fall.

Don’t fail me wings,
so I’ll be a king.
My treasure are flowers,
that bare such suffer.

Mercy my journey,
I live not plenty.
I choose so little,
but risk till wrinkle.