The Butterfly and Me
Her fluttering heart descended
from a warm September sky,
dancing upon innocence,
that graceful butterfly.
She stills upon the window clear,
a goddess' gentle breath;
creations voice personified,
silent wings outstretched.
Deep purple peacocked eyes
upon a regal red,
delicate divine beauty,
born of silken thread.
To cherish a moment shared,
the butterfly and me...
I open wide the window,
that she may fly now, free.
Synchronicity,
ReplyDeleteAnother moment shared
Across this void
autumn butterflies haunted
Of the lack inside,
That silken thread we grasp an instant,
Loss inscribed of freedom slighted
Thanks for the comment Anonymous.
ReplyDeleteWith regards to the butterfly, the joy is in watching her fly and sharing in that moment.
A wonderful piece of writing. Thank you.
ReplyDeleteBb.