The Soul Of A Butterfly…
I sit with my back pressed against
A tree as I gaze into the brook at
My feet and become lost in its depths…
A breeze like a living thing, briefly caresses
My face and is gone
In the brook the mirrored image of “Butterfly”
Presents itself to me. I turn toward her
As she sits beside me and her lips touch
Mine in a tender, silent, greeting…
Few words pass between us, for the need is for none.
My fingers manage to convey their thoughts
As they trace the gentle outline of her cheek,
The meaning of her hand as it trails its
Way across the back of my neck is unmistakable.
And yet, if you were inclined to doubt, all you
Need to do is gaze into the depths of her eyes.
Warm pools of liquid brown are they.
Twin mysteries imploring you and daring
You to explore them
Twin diamonds that can sparkle mischievously
Like the eyes of a little girl or radiate the
Maturity of a full grown woman.
Twin mirrors, behind which lies the soul,
The Soul of a Butterfly…