Because You Love Me?
You brushed the dust
by Gina Marie Moody
from the butterfly's wings
and smothered the firefly's light.
You robbed the daisy of its seeds
and blotted the color from Spring.
You stilled a spinning child
watching her skirts
arms extended, giddy with life,
because she made you dizzy.
In a breath of exhaled pessimism
you've shamed the sunset
for smearing a perfect sky
and cursed the stars
for dazzling the black of night,
because you love me?