A butterfly flits, kissed by the evening's light.
With gossamer wings of cerulean hue,
It weaves through the blossoms, a vision so true.
Oh, sweet muse of mine, let not thy fervor chase,
For such hasty pursuit doth quicken the pace.
Instead, let us linger in twilight's soft glow,
And weave a sweet spell that the heart may bestow.
As the butterfly dances, we’ll sit side by side,
In the stillness of longing where two hearts abide.
With outstretched hands, we’ll invite it to play,
In the garden of moments where love lights the way.
So let’s not pursue; let’s simply be still,
For love, like the butterfly, comes when it will.
In the hush of the evening, let our spirits entwine,
As we wait for the magic, your heart next to mine.
Comments
Post a Comment