Butterflies.
Ever wonder how they get the name? For different shapes and varied sorts; Brush-foots , Monarchs and Swallowtails, With myriad colors, like flowers' same. From half an inch, to a foot across; Their marked wings flutter pixie dust, Looks so surreal sure enough, But catch one though, it's such a loss. Tasting nectar through their feet; Finding mates and laying eggs, Pairing pollen all along, Only living twelve months neat! Enduring the cycle through, Squirm at first, fly at last; Struggle to win, a dictum true We feel "butterflies" when anxious too! -Amogh Inamdar