Poetic Journal Year 166 B.E.

166.11 Closing time at Butterfly Herbs

Closing time at Butterfly Herbs

Wending my way among the jars of teas,
the chocolate candy, coffee smells,
James unlocks the door.
He tells me I must leave
or spend the night.
I reply that I just might
except he'd make my heart go flutter,
might provoke a metamorphosis,
give me wings of joyful flight.
But, I'm too old and he's too young,
there is no question.
Across the generations:
only smirks, a gulp, an inhalation,
a catch in throat,
sad expiration,
like wings that flutter,
close then open.
In an herbal dream of butterflies
one door opens.

© 2009 Kåre Enga [166.11] 2009-03-28