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chasing the blue butterfly,
year to year to year.
upon the tattered trail blue paint falls,
all twelve months in a row.
as ones legs begin to ache, just continue the chase,
week after week after week.
ignorant of the world for ones captivation of it's beauty,
all twenty-four hours of seven individual days.
chasing until the butterfly fades dark,
until time and time again, ends.
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YOU ARE READING
fading onto death
Poetryas the last petal falls from a rose; and a bee sips it's last of nectar. as a bear fattens and takes its last hibernation; and the butterfly fades to the skies. it's never forgotten that, true, all things die. fading onto death a poetry collection a...
