When I put my palm out—
those butterflies never settle.
When you do, they do.
So the opposite is my hope…
When it watches you,
it dances;
yet when I am alone,
it drowns.
Addictive features to my sight—
eyes with colours,
nose with fragrance,
fingers that shimmer,
and wings that don’t lie.
Are you too a butterfly?
You fly within a blink.
Undescribed metaphor to fly.
Where this death dies—
in a coffin-like cocoon
comes out a new life.
Perhaps someday…
and, to everyone’s surprise,
it will land on my hand.
A butterfly flew away with a dragonfly.
I wished to be that dragonfly.