Random Spurts Of Poetry (#Wattys2016)

Introduction: I don't know where they come from

I don't know where they come from.

Sometimes, I find them jumping
On my bed

Sometimes, crawling with the spiders
On the ceiling
As I fiddle with toilet paper seams

Sometimes, they come pouring
Out of the sachet of chilli flakes
I sprinkle over my pizza

Sometimes, at the bottom of
The cone
Of my chocochip ice-cream

And sometimes, like now,
I see them peeking
Out of the curly mess
On the head
Of the redhead
Sitting ahead
Of me, in the bus.

They look so delicate, fragile -
Like butterflies
Come varied in shape and size
Dull matte or glossy bright
And in patterns, weird patterns,
Like butterflies.

Mesmerizing. Tantalizing. Shy.

They only come when
They think no one's looking,
But I am
And I must
Pen them -
These words,
These beautiful butterfly words -
Down
Before they escape me
And never again fly by.

~*~

Dedicated to the one who read me my very first story and made me fall in love with books.

~*~

Image Credits: Mike Moats (Greatbigcanvas.com)

~*~

Hi there random stranger! Thank you for taking the time to read my poems.

Do you write, paint or create any form of art? Where does your inspiration come from? What makes you tick?

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