Poetry

Papillon, Papillon

Sam McKeon

(For Emily, my Muse)

Butterfly, butterfly, wish that I’d checked,
And bought you myself, as a gift for her neck.
Expressing my love, through your beautiful form.
Alas, that I didn’t, forever forlorn.

Papillon, papillon, now that my chance is gone.
What can I do? Please send me a clue.
Your mistress so fond, of such graceful things.
Fell straight down in love, with your colourful wings.

Butterfly, butterfly, soothe her if ever she
Cries or she’s sad, or I make her so mad,
When I think that her “yes”, could be “yes” or be “no”,
Maybe mix up her birthday, or don’t say hello.

Papillon, papillon, under her clothes,
Please share your nectar wherever she goes.
I know that you’re near to her soft tender skin,
For each time I hug her, you flutter your wings.

(28.10.23)

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Published by Sam McKeon

Sam McKeon is a recluse, living on the remote rugged west coast of Ireland. Currently, Sam’s poetry tends to focus on his inner universe and the moments he spends with the very few people he is in contact with, especially his muse Emily, who has inspired almost fifty poems, tracing the development of their relationship. The astonishing drama and beauty of the wild Irish landscape is also absorbed into his writing. This can lead to some weird things, but mostly it leads to deeply passionate works stitched together with tender reflection.

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