The Wandering Poet

No Equal-

No Contemporary.

Walked great distances;

Within my confined space.

Conversations with the butterfly:

Flirtatious and dangerous, 

Intricacy about the intimate

(We had) Intimacy without intricacy. 

Those wings flew off

When the butterfly left- 

My wings left too. 

I wrote poems to console myself

My poetry reached Kings and Queens 

Became a poet for her highness.

Now I write this as a memoir of the here and now,

For I haven't a clue what tomorrow will bring this neglected soul.