I was walking through the cross walk,

On a bright Sunday morning.

When the surrounding was beautiful

And secluded of people.

I suddenly froze,

When I saw those eyes,

At a distance, with the spark most elegant,

And beauty so bright

I saw him approach swiftly

My palms were sweaty,

My cheeks blushing,

I was too scared to turn around.

I was smiling for no abrupt reason.

He approached closer,

I was walking closer,

And,

Once are paths crossed,

His hand brushed upon mine.

I lifted my head gently,

While I saw that beautiful spark in his eye,

 and his red blushed cheeks,

when he looked at me and smiled.

It was Butterflies.