It never ceased to amaze David how fragile life was. It was like holding a butterfly in your hands. Too much strength and it would be crushed, gone forever but even with the most delicate hold it was fade quickly, gone forever. As if it had never been. With little impact on the world around it. A bit like being in love, he felt.
The life of the living…
Fragile as the wings of a butterfly…
David frowned at the words. A poor choice indeed. How was he ever going to put this thoughts and feelings into poetry that would dazzle and delight if that was the best he could come up with. He drew careful lines through the words and started again.
The life of the butterfly…
He paused again. Butter – fat from milk. Fly – sits on the butter. That’s what he thought of after thinking about the word ‘butterfly’ for the past few hours. Why did Sarah have to like them anyway? What else did she like? Dogs. But dogs were hardly romantic. But puppies. Puppies were a bit romantic, he had see them on cards, along with kittens. He raised a brow in though, puppies – I wuf you. A nightmare. David tossed the pen down with annoyance. Surely words of love should not be so hard, he was in love after all. Shouldn’t they just sprout from his pen as he guided it across the paper? It would appear not.
He held the expensive sheet of paper with its awful words up to the light. He could see the texture of the hand crafted paper, could almost imagine them to be veins in the wings of a butterfly. He smiled to himself at his silliness, returned the page to his desk and began to write.
Above you will see my attempts at putting my love for you into poetry. They are a poor reflection of what I truly feel and so I shall write out in plain script that will leave no doubt in your heart as to my feelings – I love you, my beloved.