Papilio Love

She is the sun, the princess of Agra. Her radiance piercing me like a knife. A ravishing charm of Cleopatra, that clinches my din heart and virile life. Why does it seem that we are far winnow? I tally the days and wait endless hours. For butterfly love is below zero. We wish it flew wayward to wildflowers. No! Maybe Papilio can make it, the journey of a thousand mellow miles. Then, I can steal Rose like a sly bandit. And by nightfall my time will be worthwhile. But only “six degrees of separation” will make one plus one a clean equation.