Butterfly
There you sit
perched on my sill
and yet,
you’ve eluded me.
Why should you return,
that I may merely observe?
I aim to grasp
but am met with breeze
from your wings.
To the fields
and forests you go.
You’ve eluded me.
The moons luminance
casts radiance upon you,
perched on my sill.
My chin rests upon my hands;
eyes fixated on your dance.
I dare not grasp,
for to the fields
and forests you go.
I shall call you,
sleep.
A reflection of Insomnia
