This is my second post, a poem just composed this morning. (The "Roses" poem came out of the "closet"...)

I think about
children running
in the yard
their butterfly nets
swinging madly

trying (mostly in vain)
to capture the closest
thing to a pixie
that they'll ever see

they'd like to keep
their prizes forever
beauty captured
life extinguished

perhaps to be displayed
in little glass boxes
with pins anchoring them
in death
as they were never
anchored in life

and that reminds me
of myself
my anxious heart
beating faster
as I stand off to the side
just waiting

for a random word
the sharp right turn
of a phrase---
it's all fair game
for a poet and her net

they become
specimens pinned forever
held captive
by the point of a pen
in my little collection
of treasures...