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The Lepidopterist

The aging lepidopterist

Eternally the optimist

A lifetime spent in searching for

The rarest creature, nothing more

But one day soon without a doubt

He’s sure that he will seek her out

He’ll net this most elusive bug

And finding her, they’ll kiss and hug

Then looking deep within her eyes

His stomach fills with butterflies

Editing stage: 

Comments

a very fun read, and I learned a new word (new to me)

thanks

Richard

Glad to be of service Richard, thanks for the comment

John

author comment

You've managed to combine humour with a lovely human feeling.

Although I sincerely hope this has nothing to do with John Fowles book, "The Collector"!

Your poems always give me a smile and encouragement to wade though the other turgid dreck looking for gems.

cheers,
Jess
Neopoet Directors

Trust me it's got nothing to do with "The Collector" it stems from an overheard conversation which ended
" It must be love, every time I see him I get butterflies"

And I've learnt a new word today (Dreck) i'll try to casually sqeeze it into conversations. There's one heck of a lot of dreck out there pardner.

Chin up

John

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