This Day Is As Fragile As Whirling Butterflies

 

this poem is passion

this poem is fashion

oh, it could be

we all have dreams requested

because this day is as beautiful as fragile

as whirling butterflies

for the most part in it the spirit

this is perhaps not another you is it

over the top floating out

like a bright leaf

that don't wait until

for the sunrise to be

lost in the trees

oh, sway in the gray skies

between the lines

that was painted on thier shirts

warming me up with books 

and they brushes thier clouds oblivious

oh, how i got over this

oh, what a feeling in a fast day

for something not gone

from the sliding window down

my most concious memory

reawakens me

and therefore gives

and oh how so real it is for now

cool and steady

and colorful can so

into the distant winds they go

because this day is as beautiful as fragile

as the whirling butterflies

bumping into wings

and here out yielding much so can i cry 

into the spaces of feelings 

of how I've been in a fast day

upon another color applied 

that sailed from the air

in a spiral always moving

oh, yeah!  hurry so

into the feet 

into the heat

it's hard to be knowing

oh how seldom has

the arrow struck home 

and therefore takes

and oh how so it is before then

the windward sides undone

and i drifted looking at holes 

by my back unwinding

to that pretty passage above

lo and beholden

of those things to be 

to see and think about 

of love and choas

and confusion

and letting go can because

here and there

above and below scattered

we were just flightworthy

at the shoelaces

now learning how

to make a bow

we were just our plain fancy

and fancy that

in one span across

with thick-and-thin branches 

are interwoven

into a heavy basket

in one hand

i walk it back

filling up with the lines

that kept me guessing

searches me

reminds me 

of all the sweet faces

from out the past

from left to right

blending it together

and separates

by my back unwinding 

shimmering circles

searching at the water

often horizon awaiting

what was enjoyed

the miles and miles of

bumping into wings

between us passing

it was a way until

and it may and it might

is it impossible

by the rain

a-roach into a butterfly

call it vague

call it a bridge of clouds

in one span across

landing deeper

into a heavy bucket

in one hand

I walk it back

in anyway matter

filling up with water

wasn't impossible 

awhile back then

of what i've seen in a fast day

I pull it back

through no one

low and beholden a notch

another time stretches way out

in any dam

is it excellent

and high enough

I don't know

in any bloom

gentle illumination

by my middle improving

here and there

above and below scattered 

we were just flightworthy

at the shoelaces

now learning oh how

to make a bow

we were just our plain fancy

and fancy that