The Butterfly Man

He gave me butterflies
He must be the Butterfly Man
We just talked on the phone for 56 seconds
It felt like a dozen butterflies flutter inside
What's the reason for this high?
Is it love? Are we two butterflies addicted to this drug called freedom?
I would rather make his heart grow fonder
Then be tied together making us feel tired
I would rather him go from lady to lady
Choosing me in the end as his forever baby
But we are just beginning
Calling, texting and making love
We don't need to rush
I don't want him to fly away so soon
I know he has so many things to do
For it to work we would have to fly toward each other over the moon
I can't stay away
I'm stuck in his monsoon
Hope our love is stronger than bamboo
I feel butterflies when we are holding hands
In a conversation that lasts fifty six seconds
He is smooth like wine
He got me on a high
What he does I can't understand
He is the butterfly man.

Reviews

[alanwgraham]

This is a great quirky poem with lots of wit. There is something ephemeral about a flutterby and you have drawn this analogy well.
Excellent work,
Alan