I would want to be a pink butterfly
basking in the yellow morning sunshine.
I would flap my colourful wings to fly,
and hop from flower to flower to dine.
Or rather I live as a honey bee,
and make the golden liquid of pleasure?
I will disguise it from those eyes greedy,
and shall use my sting to guard the treasure.
But a honey bee buzzes all the while-
for people like us who steal her nectar.
And the poor butterfly is so docile
that it lives to please us like an actor.
If ever fate gives me a choice of role-
I would not know on which path I would roll.