Why do I chase
migrating butterflies
when ones just as beautiful
are in my garden?
They’re on their way
to a beauty I can’t
provide. Yet, I
still beg them to stay with
me.
The flowers I tend,
while beautiful,
don’t have what they need to
survive.
Regardless, I beg
“Please, don’t leave.
Your colors. Your kisses.
I need them.”.
When I look at the
young man in the
pond below, I ask
him
the same question
I ask him every
day.
Why do I chase
migrating butterflies
when ones just as beautiful
are in my garden?
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