deepundergroundpoetry.com
Butterflies
Tossed in swirling wind
happy in the turmoil
your wings so frail,
or so it seems,
high to tree tops
now nestled in the holly,
surviving as pine trees fall
frail,or so it seems,
on a springtime morning.
Stigmas willing your tongue,
nectar as sweet I taste
another butterfly
thigh for a pillow,
wings outstretched
frail, or so it seems,
yielding to my tongue
nectar sweet and quenching
on a springtime morning.
happy in the turmoil
your wings so frail,
or so it seems,
high to tree tops
now nestled in the holly,
surviving as pine trees fall
frail,or so it seems,
on a springtime morning.
Stigmas willing your tongue,
nectar as sweet I taste
another butterfly
thigh for a pillow,
wings outstretched
frail, or so it seems,
yielding to my tongue
nectar sweet and quenching
on a springtime morning.
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