The Butterfly

Stepping out of my cocoon one evening After rain had drenched the grass and sprayed the ground under the trees, I saw you etched against the yellow light of the sun. A raindrop which had lingered on the branches fell between us and died, and with wings spread against the backdrop of life, flying upon your words, I laughed through the years. Above the sounds of Sorrow, Over the blackness of Thought, When conscience glides over the surface of Fear, I somersault through the trapeze of pitfalls, sailing graceful curves into you, unmindful of the waning sun.