Butterfly Man

I chased a butterfly when i was eight
across a field of daffodils,
her wings of yellow captured my eye
Fluttering, teasing, soaring so high.
An innocent dance painted the sky,
It made me reach so very high.
Now i chase beauty in the form of flesh,
Through fiber optics , emails and texts
It was easier being a boy of eight,
Being a man is not so great.