Butterflying Poem by Stefania Paluzzi

Then I was born
to flying now.
A flight might be a bee
once I thought
looking by a gaze into a striped
sun, strangely black
and yellow
indeed
curiously enough
it was the scream
of honey flaps, close to seize
even more bitter dark of bites

but …

sure I had to move
a different coloring beat
another majestic blueness
lightly
lightness from a shining
pupil of view
inside the stinging life
-thus I realized a butterflying beauty
not for long
who dares too much.