The butterfly catcher had death in his eyes
The butterfly catcher never stopped to ask why
He pinned and staked and labeled each one
When asked he would claim he was just having fun
Though no smile ever touched his lips
No affection came, no lovers kiss
For he had endlessly watched the fly
And knew that we all just had to die.
A recording of my song Summer Sun.
Encased in stone, the bones of the lizard lies
Weathered and worn, preserved but millennia dead
Face in stone
Carved and craved
Face of curve
Angel in jade
Relic in torch light
Nothing but fragments
Held by byssal threads
Detritus floats
Within the beam
The diver explores
A mystery of the mud
Click Swirl
Click Blink
Click Flash
Click Click
A note to the girl
With pony tailed hair
Left undelivered
Shyness drove it away
No bungy jump
At your side
Echos of rivers fall from ghosts of eyes
Frozen – your expression a lie
Faded, cracked, nothing but the void
Masked by death, an effigy of lore
Twisted masquerade hiding the truth…
Of you.
Mists rising
Morning tide
Skies ripped
With dawning
The hat of the explorer
Sat in the attic
Full of stories untold
One day a child
Claimed it for fun
Dress up
Adventures – made up
Rememberings
Through generations
Stowed.