or look at it from this angle

meaning to say, our dear foyer butterfly
really had no professional messenger
or missionary experience;
sought the understanding of the berries
that lured it into recruitment,

performing for them what they called a favor,
for that’s where all this began;
butterfly on a lazy
meander, not exactly
thirsting for a nectar sup,

more like afloat on romance
aspirations that had earlier
that week melted all over
his chartreuse mind, when, passing by
the bush where berries pretty

but poisonous hung in plump bunches,
a squishy vibe emanated from
what our dear butterfly fast
learned was a leading spokes-berry
of these bunches of berries

pretty but poisonous.
“Hey you. Whatever butterfly
species be thee. Since we sense you float
as though unfettered with employment,
we wonder if you’d do us a favor.”


About Timmy the Scribbler

Love to write all kinds of stuff I love writing so many different kinds of stuff it is a constant struggle to narrow the focus to a manageable handful and let the others go. But a few years ago I dipped my fingers into a poetry pie and of all my uncertainties, one thing that is no uncertainty is that it is one passion that must remain, so maybe that's the one. I do dearly delight in chopping up fictional works into stanzas and syllables.
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