The Elusive Butterfly Poem by Cristina M. Moldoveanu

a house mouse squeaks under the heavy wardrobe
crumbs are falling
from grandpa's black pipe
the ice cream got dry in the compote bowl
my clock lags behind with a couple of polar nights

not I
I didn't care for old things and I seldom dreamed to taste
carob beans to my heart's content
rag dolls don't smile but they laugh
their mouth stretched
double stitched with thread
I
it is a too big word for a three years old child
I forgot three years ago how many things I loved in this world
I don't forgive what's left for me now
that circle of life vanished under my eyelids
traveling stars are racing
amid my lungs' breathing cells

before falling asleep
it gets always cold
the postman rings the way he did when I lost my address
where the world has forgotten me
this is something new
the history still repeating itself
in place of the best gift