She would sing in the night
To my craving ears
And I would try to catch her as
She danced through the air
On lacy wings.

I watched her flitter
And I wanted her.
So I made my palm as soft as butter
And waited, watching-
But she would not flutter to me.

When I finally brought my hand around her
I think I was too desperate
Violent in my blindness,
Blind in my urgency–
She was crushed.
Poor dear.