The women of the world are like butterflies in a field,
For there is beauty all around me.
Mostly, they fly right before my face,
Yet, its the beauty that's held within them that is truely breath-taking.
However, it's with these hand I may never touch,
Almost as if I'm cursed.
Like the unlucky butterfly collector,
For there's a field of remarkable butterflies and yet not one of them am I able to catch.