Papillon

I have a butterfly
permanently marking the skin on my chest.

Ink is the only permanence I can keep,
Never erasing, but with the years comes the fading

Blue butterfly flying at my breast,
stay there, stay there, 

As a reminder,
to remember to fly.

Papillon, Papi! Fly he says, fly!

Flying I shall find a new life
or yet perhaps an old one.

An old one I forgot about,
or a new one that awaits me.

Blue butterfly flying at my breast,
set me free like the wind,
help my to fly far above,
show me where I belong.