Image: Julian-G. Albert: Gossamer-winged butterfly: They seem to like suntan lotion | (CC BY 2.0)

A gnomish poem

You fly by night, a green light twinkling with each wing-beat, sweet as the pain of a ’plane pulling away — and the days grow longer, and stronger grows the bite of cold at night — Firefly, fluttering butterfly flirting in the sunshine, stoned on the wine of summer flowers, sozzled on nectar and seeing stars — reach for the sky, fly! Spread gossamer wings, sing; take your ease on the breeze. My thighs sigh, warm for the balm of your touch, the magical crutch of a fairy-tale — Sail on, free spirit — while I sit here: so far, yet so near, counting the hours and petals on flowers — for though I ache to take your hand and make you land — aground, bound in bondage, in gilded cage — I cannot: still my will to satisfy wish selfish treasure-trove I love to keep from knowing freedom — and I give — that you may live and grow — So soar to your abode above on the wings of my love.