Colours fly by

Colours

A series of colours flies by my face. I crane my neck to see what it was. Can’t see anything, go back to my book. There it is again, oh darn, it’s gone. Where is it now, I ask myself, behind a bush? I see it now, far off in the distance, too far away to identify. Hope it comes closer ‘cause it looks like a rainbow. Colours merge, I see from my eyes. What could it be. Oh! Look, it’s a butterfly!