I held a butterfly in Tokyo.
She made a home,
In the palm of my hand.
Mesmerizing with each flap of her wings.
She leisurely strolled up my thumb,
Stared back at me,
Aware of the trance she caught me in,
As if to savor the view,
Then turned and flew,
Into the distance.
I stood,
Motionless,
As she left,
A hole,
In my heart.