Butterfly

There you sit

perched on my sill

and yet,

 

you’ve eluded me.

 

Why should you return,

that I may merely observe?

 

I aim to grasp

but am met with breeze

from your wings.

 

To the fields

and forests you go.

 

You’ve eluded me.

 

The moons luminance

casts radiance upon you,

perched on my sill.

 

My chin rests upon my hands;

eyes fixated on your dance.

 

I dare not grasp,

for to the fields

and forests you go.

 

I shall call you,

 

sleep.

◄ Bound

Cataclysm ►

Comments

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Chaz Allen

Tue 20th Aug 2019 03:19

Very much appreciated. Thank you

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Philipos

Mon 19th Aug 2019 19:10

A must read piece and atmospheric too. Enjoyed. P.

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