Thursday, March 22, 2012

And With That I Could Sleep

I trapped a butterfly in my glass
And held it up towards a light
While the pattering of rain outside
Late on this late December night
Mimicked the tapping on the glass
Of decorated wings inside,
The orange fading into brown with little specks of blue and white,
Powerless attempt at flight,
Trapped inside invisible prison
At the mercy of my person.

I stepped towards my dripping window
And opened it to feel the raindrops
On the cool breeze of a late December night,
The stars trapped behind clouds bleached by headlights,
Removed my hand from atop the glass
And out of my sight let the butterfly pass.

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