My Field Of Wildflowers Poem by Chase Gagnon

You're my stillborn butterfly
afraid of your beauty
with limp wings —
pried from the safety of your cocoon
by my old hands
in a forest where everything
is charred.
Only the skeletons of trees
once lush with life and birdsongs
can admire your strange elegance
as you lay listless on their roots
that thirst for a storm of passing love
and thunder.

I want to carry you away
to my field of wildflowers
and resurrect you with the unfiltered glow
of the shy moon, who only shows its face
in this meadow of lies.
I'll watch the breeze wake you on my fingertips
then let you fly away, carelessly
into a world of color
I'll never compare to.