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Poetry is just the evidence of life. If your life is burning well, poetry is just the ash. Leonard Cohen

Monday, July 18, 2011

Butterfly

photo courtesy Rosie Hardy


He called her a delicate flower
And pressed her petals between pages of the Bible to preserve her
He compared her skin to fine porcelain
And wrapped her in garments so she would not break
He spoke of her beauty as a work of art
And set her behind glass to protect and display her
He said she was his beautiful and rare butterfly
And he tried to pin her wings to always possess her
But the book covers flew open
And the garments rent
And the glass shattered
And she
Floated out the door
And flew away

and
dVerse Poets Pub, New Beginnings

8 comments:

Claudia said...

i'm glad she managed to fly away...you best can hold someone if you give them freedom..

Daydreamertoo said...

Yes, I so agree with Claudia, you can only love something if you set it free. Anything else traps it and keeps it as a prisoner and after time it would want its freedom.
Lovely prose.

Brian Miller said...

good for her...possession is not a good thing...

Fireblossom said...

Can't keep a good woman caged. ;-)

dragonkatet said...

Ah, what a nice metaphor! This was well-wrought. :)

Christine said...

I love this, one of your best!

Mama Zen said...

This is absolutely gorgeous. I'm glad that she flew away, too.

MISH said...

This poem is beautiful ... it hints at tenderness , fragility , vulnerability , protection ... and a streak of possessiveness all wrapped up in one ! I loved it !