Sixth Sense

My eyes opened, to see a butterfly
On the wall opposite me,
Where from, to where was he?
Why here was he, in all the world?
Was it black with red spots?
Or red with black spots?
A closer confounded me more.
Vigilant wings, that stir storms,
Coiled horns, that build bridges,
Thoughtful eyes, sad and deep,
I caught his eye, to enjoy the limelight,
What was he wondering about?
Looking for his dinner petal, or wondering,
Where the next tornado’d be?
Love lost, or discovered yet unfound?
Maybe it was the last one,
When I thought out loud, if he wanted to woo
His dear girl, one with spots to complement his,
The fellow nodded his head, saying yes,
But the moment I asked him if I could help,
He took off, clearly answering me,
Maybe his sixth sense told him, that
I had not, a sixth of his sense for romance.