Blue Butterfly Sonnet

It fly's down to rest upon my nose,

In this garden of mirror red,

Its wings are blue like it froze,

I do not move my head,

But still it startles and flies away,

Landing on the silver tree in the lake,

If I swam to catch it would it stay,

Before I reach the island I awake,

I always drown beneath the water,

Trying to reach the other side,

With each try my temper grow hotter,

No one can say I haven't tried,

But still its blue wings pass me by,

Damn that beautiful blue butterfly,

-Gabrie'L' Clark