balladeer of moons
174,358 poems read
Requiem
Requiem for Butterflies
The Sun retreats the ramparts of the day
And Fondness ducks hidden beneath the roses.
I am in a place where no woman will weep,
Staying innocent of the knowledge
That trips us in the end,
Not dabbling in the dreams that I am forbidden to keep.
The heart’s delay demands a scattering of ashes on the roses.
My cigarette burns low.
I give a clear stare out the door.
I despair of what no one can know.
The dust comments again on the floor.
Is that a moth or a butterfly beating against the window?
From here, I cannot tell,
But never settle for anything less than butterflies.
For then my Kate will return to me
To retrace the constellations
And write new requiems for butterflies.
Although it is two years well after,
With each passing day
I am less handsome
Than I was in her arms.
The Sun retreats the ramparts of the day
And Fondness ducks hidden beneath the roses.
I am in a place where no woman will weep,
Staying innocent of the knowledge
That trips us in the end,
Not dabbling in the dreams that I am forbidden to keep.
The heart’s delay demands a scattering of ashes on the roses.
My cigarette burns low.
I give a clear stare out the door.
I despair of what no one can know.
The dust comments again on the floor.
Is that a moth or a butterfly beating against the window?
From here, I cannot tell,
But never settle for anything less than butterflies.
For then my Kate will return to me
To retrace the constellations
And write new requiems for butterflies.
Although it is two years well after,
With each passing day
I am less handsome
Than I was in her arms.