A long time ago, at the tender age of 6 or 7
I fluttered and waved my arms as a butterfly would
It was my dance to my mother's music
that gave me the spontaneity
to dance, run and skip around the room as a butterfly would.
I used to imagine that I had wings
of gold and many other colors,
blue, pink and white were favorites too.
I danced as I twirled to the music,
making my " special " wings go swiftly up and down,
while my feet moved to the "tinkle" of the piano keys,
and the rhythm of the music.
The ending of my dance would always be going to sleep
with wings spread high and closed above my head,
With eyes shut tightly, doing a curtsey,
Under the living room table.
While rounds of applause from happy visitors
filled my ears with vibrant noise.
Perchance to dream.
As dreamers do.
How I wish that I could still be,
that little butterfly that still lies dormant "within me."