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I barely brushed with my fingers
butterflies of an idyllic and heartfelt summer,
that sank into the past with longing,
while the sun on high stood erect.
Encrusted to our souls entwined
by a love more alive than ever,
I only write on this cramped afternoon
verses that my heart utters for you.
We were celestial like the sky without equal,
clinging to dreams of fiery passion,
facing our fears, with no sign
of doubt, ready to give up our lives.
With firm conviction to love without condition,
butterflies of a perpetual summer in communion.