She dreamed that night of Butterfly Lane
where her brush could paint real-petal roses
and giggles grow into shimmering wings

She stepped onto the path, timid at first with wonder
and delight.
“Come on,”  the butterflies whispered, “Come with us!”
And soon she was running
and the path gave way
and she reached out her hand to the butterflies –

“Come with us!” they called from their home in the breeze
and she flew.