The butterflies in my tummy have flourished.
They are in my heart,
dancing a fine twirling argentine tango
(complicated with extra pairs of legs).
They are sliding about my veins,
like over-joyed kids
in a waterpark
drunk on the hot pulse
of a summer day.
They are in my mind. . .
I am a butterfly,
affectionately brushing your petals
with my fine wiry antennae,
clinging to your silken petals.
In the leisurely sun
of a perfect day,
or in the slick rain of life's obstacles,
I shield you with my little wings,
and drink in your fragrance
with great pleasure. . .
always.
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