“an act of speaking one’s thoughts aloud when by oneself or regardless of any hearers“…that’s the dictionary’s definition of a soliloquy.

When I was a young, dreamy-eyed poet, I fancied myself to be consistently involved in soliloquy. It was because I didn’t think many (if any) would understand the things I wrote about or why. That’s probably still true, at least in part. But I’ve long since grown past the point of keeping my words and music to myself.

I say all that only to sort of preface today’s poetic offering. It’s about a butterfly. Or is it? The title of the poem can’t be found anywhere in the poem. So, maybe that’s an indication of what lies beneath. Then again…maybe it isn’t. At any rate, I hope you enjoy my…

Soliloquy

Butterfly…how can you fly when your smile is gone?
Dipping and diving and looking so splendid,
But your smile is gone.
What is wrong?

Butterfly…you’re gathering nectar from flowers that have long since died.
You thirst for their sweetness and long for completeness,
But the flowers have died.
Still, you have tried.

While you fly above I am living in love…
Enjoying the peaceful tranquility.
Utopia; it’s that kind of a world
That you brought to me…willingly.

Butterfly…sometimes when I watch you I simply sigh.
Free as a child and yet all the while never saying a word.

Butterfly…I want to see you laugh again.
And I want to see you smile again.

© Copyright Tony Funderburk 1975

Your whimsical writer,