The Butterfly

I wrote this poem with some advice from Mommy about the rhythm.

 A fluttering speck
Floats across the deck.
Closing my book,
I take a closer look.

Its wings gleam white,
Like a full moon at night.
With body very sleek,
It is nectar that it seeks.

It dips way down low,
And searches as it goes.
Then soaring way up high,
There goes the butterfly!