Butterflies Flutter Round In My Tummy,
Tickling My Skipping Heart

Wisdom came in fairy tales
a moonlit wonderland.
So young was I and unaware
of what was in my hand.

What gifts were these I did not know,
till many years had past.
Those childhood rhymes that led me here,
to find my song at last.

Years and tears and caustic words
as parents learned to fight.
I penned my fears and questions down
alone by candlelight.

And heard answers blowin' in the wind
incense, such sweet repast.
Awakened the soul asleep inside,
to find my song at last.

Thinking I was on my way
as young men often do,
I left behind a trail of dreams
forgetting what I knew.

But when she left without a sound,
a hard role had been cast.
Forced to play, I found a way,
to find my song at last.

And now I'm gray and fears are new
and age is in my eyes.
On death and time and dying,
my mind spins it's dark lies.

Remembering the moon light,
a solace from my past.
I can rest, no longer chained,
I've found my song at last.

Dancing freely between shades-of-gray thoughts,
they are not me.
I am the stage on which they act their role.
Laugh at their voice,
serene bliss-filled peace lay amid mindsets.
Childish antics
play their someday-one day game all in vain,
and would rather suffer than lose themselves.



*Cavatina:
The Italian form consists of a ten (10) syllable non rhyming line alternating with a four (4) syllable rhyming line, at least three (3) times and completed with a ten syllable line couplet.

I had some help with this one, I borrowed some phrases from E. Tolle