you are that butterfly,
I always wished to be
in the solemn solitude
of the place where now I be,
yours are the wings
upon which I'd like to fly
as far and further as a butterfly
but take care of my weight,
tis bound to be a strain
that, I can't help
but my aerofoil shall help air to flow
will help reduce my weight
of course that you know
your poetry is like music
even my deaf ears
pick up the string
as in it snows
here in spring....
soft music begins....
Comments
You are terminally sentimental and sweet.
Fortunately, there is no cure.
hope
not termination
friend Snow
Loved
Wesley has said it, an extreme case of sentimentality:-
Sentimentally
Acrostically speaking
Loved reigns Neopoet.
Mind you there is still Ian.T
"Butterfly"
Fragrant powder clings to their wings
If only the butterfly could sing
It does, It does the wind did sigh
Its colour sings as it does fly.
You have your own wings young Bard, that you have not yet learned to fly is just a question of time, I have to go write some new words about a Desert and time, so I shall bid thee God's speed,
Yours Ian.T
What a lovely poem, Loved.
What a lovely poem, Loved. Your butterfly allegory is spot on. Love the clarity of this yet it provides wonderful vistas for the reader's imagination.
Well done; I loved it.
Joe
from a sailors perspetive
i shall also compose one on fish,
though you wouldv;e have read
by now my milt...
Hey Loved,
Ian.T don't forget me La La, Sparrow