A little blue butterfly,
Flying from flower to flower,
Scarcely touching their petals,
Fluttering from one to another.

A tall man with a cello,
Stands under the Willow tree,
Mimicking it's genteel movement,
With his music so gracefully.

A peace comes within him,
He glances at the cloudless sky,
As a soft breeze carries away,
The little blue butterfly.

January 10, 1999
Joelle Gauthier