If apologies were butterflies
Fluttering into a sunny haze, lost
Under burning trees, reflected from skies
On mirroring rivulets — and thus cost
Nothing, save your lovely smile, shimmering
Over a lovely smile — mirrored again.
When, thus down on my knees I sit, wishing
That you smile on my faults — perhaps then
Am I absolved of my wrongs, forgiven
As the butterflies hide in the flames.
Or, perhaps, in the melodious beats
Of a nightingale’s glee — when the world folds
Itself within sleep, within dreamy sheets —
If I be but a little quiet, all holds
On my speech lost in your silence — alone,
Seated close but silent yet, like strangers
Who met one day — together, but alone —
An absent word adds to distance, severs,
Strains my hold on you; this apology
Is but a small charge to hold tight your words.
When Heavens portray discontent, violent
And discordant is the blaze from skies
That strikes but softer than your rage, silent
Is your discontent, silent anger lies
In your unforgiving eyes; and this verse
As an apology to reclaim you
From recesses of your rage, like the stars
That scintillate in the night sky; a few
Are enough to drive away the storm, more
Follow closely behind, thus shining bright.