You are not a flower
blossoming alone in a desert.
I am not a starved butterfly
crossing a desert with heavy flaps.
You may be a nameless flower
blooming furtively in a dazzling rose garden.
I may be an obscure old scrubby butterfly
dancing in a glamorous group dance of butterflies.
Despite all of these,
a butterfly is seduced by your sweet nectar;
a flower is craving for an ecstasy
through my long winding proboscis.
Yeah! It would be alright
if you are called a butterfly;
if I am called a flower.