On the Breeze

I watch you wander through the garden path —
A breeze awakens your hair’s raven sea —
The birds are interrupted at their bath
And fly away from you, as you from me.
Why won’t you turn to me, let soft words fly
My way, as butterflies of blues and greens
That glide from myrtle blooms of white, which lie
Among eternal leaves as crinolines?
I step onto the garden path and walk
To where you smell the myrtle blooms, the scents
And breezes lure me out so we can talk —
The butterflies, they bring me your assent.
The birds returned — the sun can shine today —
I hold you in my arms — ask you to stay.



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Troy Camplin

I am the author of “Diaphysics” and the novel “Hear the Screams of the Butterfly.” I am a consultant, poet, playwright, novelist, and interdisciplinary scholar.