She's flying, flitting and fluttering...
Lighting here and there
Only on the tips of safe petals
Longing to savor the sweet nectar
Fearful of its call

Darting, hiding then scurrying about
Tempted to travel dangerous paths
Where vigilance is futile
And hope is a fragile perilous twig

Where is the safe hearth
For which a part of her cries
Will it be discovered
Before she dies

or are the delusions an armor
covering only spirits too pure
and fragile to remain here...
amongst those of us
falsely labeled
sane