butterflies

When I think of a woman I wonder why I can think of butterflies, those free ones that embrace the petals of a flower, colorful ones , the ones that fly between blades of grass and gardens blend with the colors of nature , the I think so , free , free to dream.
But today I only see butterflies walking , but as you say , butterflies walking ?
Yes, a bit ' of time I can not imagine that they are flying , and when they try they seem to have wings injured by unscrupulous hunters , or wings soaked with tears so heavy that does not allow him to take that flight up , circulatory, almost without a goal,
Today me guess all in a row , walking , each in search of their bloom, almost resigned to not being able to fly or land on the flower .
I read somewhere that the life of a butterfly lasts a day , a single day, so when I see a flying waving in search of his flower I'm rooting for her,
fortunately the lives of women lasts much longer , but if a woman decides not to fly , life can last an eternity , if a woman decides to walk alone life has no sense , and it might last a day.
You can live an eternity , and you can fly for just one day ,
but that day, that single day, that single flight can be like a lifetime ......
As the butterflies .....