Wish We Were Butterflies

Love…
…makes me imagine what my mind care barely comprehend; what my spirit knows but has no knowledge where the certainty comes from. In the light of love pieces of my heart return I was barely aware were missing.

Nineteenth century English romantic poet John Keats
I almost wish
we were
butterflies
and liv’d
but three summer days;
three such days
with you
I could fill
with more delight
than fifty
common years
could ever contain.