Saturday, January 21, 2017

How a butterfly


How a butterfly came to rest here I know not
or how she became your hand when mine

(poor wingless thing)

seemed about to die
I know not

nor do I know
what else to say or sing

save

is there a single thing in me
you really need?



2 comments:

Jan said...

Very beautiful, William.

to touch your hand
she touched your soul~

William Michaelian said...

Thank you, Jan . . .