A white-furred puppy sits on my lap
under early morning birdsong.
She came tail wagging and stood on hind legs
in adorable persuasion of simple love.
More than anything, she wants to beside me.
Together we watch the erratic decisions
of a common variety white butterfly.
It seems you can find these small beauties
flittering through their chaos anywhere
spring and summertime.
The pup, a papillon, sees it too.
She wants to go chase the thing
but she stills herself,
licking my hand and face,
our togetherness being more important.
Once in one of my darker times,
I decided to follow on of these whimsical creatures
never expecting to get much of anything,
being so hard to catch in non-linear flight,
but healing can begin even with the smallest light.
It led me through years of wrong turns,
hopping back and forth from light to dark
while teaching me about the people I share the world with.
Their friendship, unbounded love,
strong enough to shatter every dark
I used to like to think
that if I chased the right butterfly
it would lead me to my one true love.
None have yet, but I’ve met so many lives,
keeping me together when light goes away
and all this hope is curled up in my lap.
Papillion, French for butterfly, my white butterfly
is already here with me.
She holds me together in her coiled body
never letting me forget that love is real.