unwilling to settle for anything but perfection
I can’t wait for you any longer
I’m just so tired of writing these good-byes
as if rehearsing them for later
so to speak up now is my only chance
I will say “I love you” and you will be sitting there alone
and in your head you will think
“did I hear something, or was it just the wind?”
a butterfly would have a better chance of getting noticed
the bright color catching your eye
you are caught by beauty, fleeting and fragile
unwilling to see the strength of the tree that shades you
or feel the power of the sun sharing its heat with you
they are too much, too alien, too alive
not at all what a well-conditioned person would notice
unimportant are we that don’t flutter and dance
no matter how bright we shine,
we aren’t the delicate delicacies of modern man’s tastes
We are chained by our nature, our strength
you flutter away from my refuge, as fleeting as the real thing
I stand among the willows, crying
your goodbye is harsh
ignorance is never kind to the knowing
I wish that I could say you will regret leaving my garden
but butterflies are free
and you are free to follow
when you leave, take my heart
I don’t think I’ll need it again
I’ll quietly slip it into a pocket
a warning to others that love the chase
a reminder that you are not alone by necessity, only by choice
beware the butterflies, boy
they have something worse than my clumsy words
their sticky sickening cocoon will weave lies around your head
trapping you more tightly
no longer free to follow beauty
then the butterfly leaves
they always do
someday, trapped in that cocoon, you will change
love, life, and the meaning of laughter
will lose its importance
and beauty will be your god
and then, reminiscing, you may miss that bright sun, that strong tree
and wonder, ‘whatever became of them’?
what happens to those not enchanted by the butterfly?
we are still here,
in my garden, growing free, strong, honest
if you ever stop my way again, return my heart so that I may know of its journeys
and kiss me on the cheek goodbye,
for butterflies never stay too long
-srd
4/5/00