Monday, January 23, 2012

I know ...

The constant drips of late night dew
falling on dead leaves,
hesitant lines of wintery maples
losing themselves in fog,
barely discerning the last few lights
of a sleeping village, down the valley,
I whisper final seductive words
to the shadows of past lovers,
and with my last breath, will take in,
all the secrets of this mystic world.

In a foggy night, on a mountain top,
the butterfly will be set free.

4 comments:

  1. Wow!!! that is well written. Your poem speaks to me.

    ReplyDelete
  2. Thank you!
    Honestly, I like it because I wrote it (naturally) but from an outsider perspective I think it may be a bit too sentimental, LOL

    ReplyDelete
  3. For me "In a foggy night, on a mountain top,
    the butterfly will be set free." was the best part.

    ReplyDelete

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