The bee and butterfly
spend their lives
in the flower’s shadow,
fluttering, forever,
inside the cloud
of her fragrance,
rhyming their hearts
into the sweet ecstasy
of the golden mead.
Likewise, beloved,
in your shadow
I flutter, live, and grow,
your absence bewitching
my moth instinct
like a candle’s flame
as inside me you burn
into pure poetry.
Rooted in Love 