Catch me a butterfly, she had said…

And I did her bidding, like the smitten lover I was …

That I would run all day in the woods…

Happy like a lark, chasing winged beauties…

Each second spent in pursuit of the prize…

Rising each morning, earlier than the cockerel..

In time I caught not one but a hundred…

Not dead, but alive and flapping with life…

Each one like my Catherine, beautiful but not free…

Author Note: So this is for the poetry/writing 201 Day 2 challenge: Gift, Acrostic, Simile

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