Andrew David Dalby
She has these lovely butterfly eyes,
that lustre in their sweet fragility.
They look at me, so bold and unafraid;
despite her twenty three years of age,
they are untamed by life's hard lessons;
of heavy bitterness and ice cold cruelty.
They lift me up, and hold me very close,
And wrap about my shattered legs.
and with a sweet secret, aching 'shhh',
She slowly settles all my needy debts.
With a slender raised winked finger,
placed on her lush and tender lips;
I slowly sense a growing needy ache,
that fills me with her heady sips.
and as we touch...our breath is stilled...
yet not filled... with any sad regrets.
Andrew David Dalby's Other Poems
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Comments about this poem (Butterfly eyes by Andrew David Dalby )
Poem of the Day
- bra maidenform, rwetewrt erwtwer
- avenues america, rwetewrt erwtwer
- coast transfers, rwetewrt erwtwer
- The Road Not Taken, Robert Frost
- If You Forget Me, Pablo Neruda
- If, Rudyard Kipling
- Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening, Robert Frost
- Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night, Dylan Thomas
- Daffodils, William Wordsworth
- Annabel Lee, Edgar Allan Poe
- rwetewrt erwtwer
Percy Bysshe Shelley
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(7 May 1861 – 7 August 1941)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
(13 September 1916 – 23 November 1990)
(31 October 1795 – 23 February 1821)
(27 October 1914 – 9 November 1953)