Soft Trap Poem by Matt Mooney
Soft Trap
A Painted Lady butterfly
Delays delicately nearby,
Her freshness never old.
Wings of words unspoken,
I'm weightless in her space.
Then a ripe red apple falls
With a faint silent sob,
Soft trapping me in sunshine
In the orchard by the stream.
At last I have to walk away
But I leave my pain behind me
Where quietly clamour now
The sniping stinging wasps.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/26/2024 7:33:36 AM # 1.0.0.1119
Love this... healing in nature