carlo,
This poem is absolutely beautiful.
Thank You so much.
feather
Like a moonbeam, a flower, a life...
This butterfly was born
on lips of my lovers kiss
It grows restless and tired and craves new beginnings, often shedding its skin and forming anew.
It flutters and whispers and hums and sings softly to itself.
It exists only to make itself content as it spreads love.
It has touched many souls.
It has acted as much more than a mere muse, dancing about on flowers and whiskers and lovers murmurs.
It has grown and flourished and spread its pollen from flower to flower, lover to lover.
And while it not only acts for its own pleasure and gratification, it loves to share.
It likes to tell secrets, coo lovingly in one's ear, and converse until the wee hours, warm breath, soft thoughts, gentle touches.
It remains shy to strangers and yet is as open as any book.
It occasionally wanders through wondrous gardens of the minds, treading softly along twisting paths and frolicking in lush fields, listening to the sound of an imagined gentle breeze...
There it is, watch closely, feel it spreading love.. Just as it is doing now
carlo,
This poem is absolutely beautiful.
Thank You so much.
feather