Pieris

The color yellow looks different when I look through your eyes,

As if the fields are made of emeralds decorated in butterflies,

And then I see pollen fly and descend to the wind’s singing

And embed themselves into beds’ sheets’ linen.

 

The coursing of dance mimics a river current

And I involuntarily admire your freckles and the rose of your cheeks like they’re sunburnt.

 

 

Now, I know you’re a gift to me because you entered what I know to be the present

The same feeling comes whenever you smile because it’s as bright as the moon in its’ crescent.

 

White butterflies come at special times

Whenever I walk the right path

Or see you with closed eyes

Or avoided a trap

But now I'm happy to fall asleep

Now that the dreams aren't bad

Because now I dream of moments which we haven't had.