between the garden floor
and the sky,i think.
I imagine a roar,
and I wink.
A hue too many to write,
but all is from something white.
In smokes they roam,
they float on foam.
Petite flower.
A damsel and a lover.
The rowdy rogue
the hungry vogue.
Strewn around many a flight
and a few fight.
flutter few funny flies,
the best- the butterflies.
between the sky and the
floor,there are many too
many and more then many!
It is just filled with any.
