Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Oct 2015
The butterfly catchers net sat silently on a bed of frost,
Crisp catches of colour reflecting the Spring sun,
Lines of emerald to grace the walls of a London home.
Like dreams they lay still, an untouched memory.
An easy ****, gently executed and put to rest
To be remembered in the evening light
On a gentleman's windowsill.
Feminists keep fighting the butterfly catcher
OliviaAutumn
Written by
OliviaAutumn
719
   Sumina Thapaliya
Please log in to view and add comments on poems