Amidst the yellowed walls, she stands alone, Her cape, a crown, upon her head doth lie, A symbol of her strength, her spirit's throne, As she holds up a flower, a golden sigh.
A black butterfly flutters near her hand, A mysterious presence, in this vibrant land, Its wings, a contrast, to the yellow's bright, Yet, together they create a harmonious sight.
The butterfly's dance, a gentle breeze stirs, As petals softly fall, like silent tears, The woman's gaze lost in thought's embrace, As the flower's beauty, fills the space.
