The polka-dotted butterfly
Is flying through the air
Not a worry in the world
Not a significant care
Little boy looks at the butterfly
And runs, runs toward it
I look out the window
And smile at this beautiful secret
He's so happy now
For he has the animal
No one can ruin the butterfly
Not even Hannibal
(sorry, I couldn't think of anything that can rhyme with animal)
The boy is happy
But the butterfly is not
It needs to get back to his work
For which he has terribly fought
for
this isnt anything big, it justttt came out
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