Butterflies and Saxophones
I never told you but I used to religiously rise a degree,
every time your nails tapped playfully along my window pane.
Clickity clickity clackity clickity...click.
You still good at cloaking that big battered heart of yours,
still tracing those neon hieroglyphs?
No I'm not being judgmental, I've grown up a bit.
Though I can see you haven't changed at all
and maybe that's a good thing.
Your still my Lord Rayleigh butterfly
emerging from the saxophone mist
clickity clickity- clickity clackity...click.
Copyright © Anthony Biaanco | Year Posted 2019
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