The Battle of the Butterflies

I saw two little butterflies at war.
“Dear me”, I asked, “What are you fighting for?”.
They told me they both loved the same bright daisy
and love, clearly, had driven them quite crazy
for now, their silken wings, so gay and bright,
were being used in a ferocious fight.
With butterfly heads they butted and battered.
I worried they might tear their wings to tatters
and so, upon them both, I softly blew
and, forgetting their quarrel, off they flew.