Stand by, butterfly
on the Canterbury Bells;
my memory
can’t concede the Spring,
not the way you look at me.
 
Set to pull, or fly away;
is it something in the way I’m standing here?
Stilled, save for energy.
 
You stretch your wings,
I see it in your company;
tensed 'til the water’s boiling,
catching steam.
Condensing moments 'til the air is thickening;
I don’t know how you keep on giving.
 
Pick yourself up, at the breeze
the moment’s gone and left with me;
for your time, I’d like to thank you;
continue on your journey.

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