I sit in my garden why I don’t know
For it is steeped in blankets of new fallen snow.
Naked trees clothed in sheets of ice
The landscape is beauty filled with sunlight and white.
Winter doth grips my heart so
The tears and the sadness from my soul flow.
But the beauty and promise.
That soon… my sweet butterfly will show…
I am not given to speaking words that are sweet
I am blacker than madness from the demons I meet.
The battles that rage alone that I fight,
There is no moon in the darkness of my night.
It is beauty and love that I do indeed seek…
Where is my butterfly? So humble…so meek.
Winter unclenches its furious grip
It is sweet spring from whose cup I now sip
Fervently I wish from the seeds that I sow,
Soon…yes soon my sweet butterfly will show.
I patiently wait alone in my chair
My garden has grown at which now I do stare
The flowers they bloom, through love and my care
But where is my butterfly? so pretty so fair.
Her gossamer wings alight on my plants,
My heart races to a beat that enchants.
I am stricken by madness, with a heart that so yearns
My beautiful Butterfly indeed has returned.
You can not touch beauty; it is but a wisp of smoke
Clutch as you may tis but a dream you invoke
It can only be seen and loved from afar
Alas…..if I could… share the words that we spoke.
I watch in sweet bliss as she does her dance
Hopping from flower, from flower to plant
I smile and nod as her beauty unfolds
Ahhh the story of love that she told.
The trees cry leaves which tumble to the ground
With a wistful, wishful, whispering sound.
Autumn has come it cannot be denied
The green of the grass cries as it dies
The seasons impose their will upon all.
My eyes which do tear
And a heart that does yearn
That my sweet, sweet, butterfly will someday return.
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