Butterfly, bye

Her love was a caterpillar
and clung to my pinky;
choosing white knuckles and not a leaf.
Harm could not rouse but a thumb,
had loveliness not stung a pupil,
and could I squish heartlessly?

So I pampered her.
And solemnly recited
manipulative words that enchanted.
And when affection cocooned,
It seemed too sudden;
ballooned into something astronomical.

How could a minuscule caterpillar make me powerless?
Full of glee and dumbfounded,
buckled knees-
parched.
Thirsty for more.
And if the day I dread,
teary and silenced
I have to let go...
and the butterfly destines strawberry fields where men do not;
to perish is absolute.

----- by Dean McRae

Back to Dean’s Poetry