• A fleeting touch from a pearly wing
    Butterfly seems to laugh at my startle
    Leading me through the two way mirror
    and into a rush of leaves sighing
    Past the wide, wary eyes warning
    Feet keep following, but makes not a rustle
    Crunch blends in with roar of a river
    of which I can see nothing

    Branches grow heavy, touching my brow
    Still she weaves ahead of my steps
    A shimmer here and there, more and more distant
    Lost are even the beginnings of my shouts
    But my heart won't stop, not yet
    Still, still I search, persistent.