salted Waves and
caramelised Wounds,
how do you do?

overturned page,
ice-cream that's had.
melted or fermented thought?

How I wish
I could swim
in your eyes.

I don't know how this
orange-winged butterfly has entered my room
when the doors and windows stand closed to
the force of the rains.
i see it fluttering about, though,
just as the soul,
not knowing what to do.
why, does it have to be set free?
won't it find its own way
like the way it found its way here?
oh, I just see it has found peace
next to my bathroom slippers
as lackadaisical and unassuming
as a wonderer should be.