In my mind
I caress her wings,
After she has emerged from her cocoon,
the tips of my
fingers stroking
her vibrant color
until she glows,
a fantasy I have relive over and over in my dreams,
the memory of how delegate she is,
and soft, and vulnerable,
how she shudders even when blessed,
my fingers tracking the stain glass she displays
as if she is a saint,
and I too much a
sinner
to deserve such a
touch
I paint her in colors I wish
and pretend I can touch,
It can never happen
,this butterfly waiting to take flight,
beyond reach,
flapping her wings as
she warms
reborn into something even more
magnificent than she was,
and will be even more
so,
gone beyond us all.
No comments:
Post a Comment