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The Moon Butterfly
Written: November 17, 2023 For Anoucheka Gangabissoon Contest
Butterflies are self-propelled flowers.~R.H. Heinlein
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I was beset by fetching shade and quiet.
Silky blue wave was all that lent insight.
Cynosure twilight, nocturnal birds in the air
Comely moon is at its peak—it imparts glare.
Nighttime wind howling and exquisite moon
A sense of demure in stygian helps ease the loon.
Quench me while I bask in its exquisiteness.
Whilst wave waltz in the night's inure emptiness.
I grasp a nemesis moon; lilting wings are one.
Might collide in her mellifluous swings in the sun.
I look at another butterfly, a one-winged moon.
Until I'm inebriated on opulent honey and swoon.
An indigo moon, a velvety butterfly in scope
A seraglio amid flower petals, flying on a slope
As dreams fly toward me, my soul soars in the sky.
Holding hands, aureate as the sun climbs high.
Frail spirits are seen in cobalt, marigold, and blue.
Flutter and sing nebulous operas, then subdue
Diaphanous butterfly flight; the moon guides waves.
Butterflies flew by willow trees on the paves.
Her theatrical pirouettes and plies were unique.
Her effusive leaps and swanlike views amaze sleek.
Pearl blue eyes, rose-colored skin, and silver hair
The prima donna version of a frog lacks a stare.
Amidst the tranquility of the nocturnal calm,
What ensues in its midst, amid the lunar charm?
When gloom veils our sight—quiet crams the air.
Utterly divine events happen beyond compare.
Don't opine the sky's limit if moon steps are seen.
The only limits are yours; call it a muse, not a dream.
Quit your egregious zone to foresee epoch beyond.
Strive for the full moon, and Elysian stars will bond.
Copyright ©
Sotto Poet
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