Dreams are butterflies
Floating the skies
She's been collecting all her life.
From close and from afar
Pressed into words they are.
He wants to know where they go.
What if someone only dreams of you?
I know I do.
She holds another butterfly
In the palm of her hand
Someday you'll understand
We both already are
Pressed words.
Two names, two lives
Floating high in the skies.
© Colleen Yorke. All rights reserved.