Like Seuss, but sadder.

Apprehending a Fix

I went on this evening most fair, outside

with my butterfly net and my butterfly guide.

On a quest I, with zeal, endeavor to look

for a rare, stunning creature from a page in this book.

For years I have read of this item so rare
bearing delicate wings of a color quite fair -

in sunlight or mist, it is difficult to see

Lucky you, found yours? It'll look different for me.

I keep pressing on though, each morning and night

for a shot at a capture of one so delightful,

as they're full of charms - do not laugh or taunt;

these magical beings have something I want.

They bloom out of dream dust, like all stars and plans.

To own one could mean that my castles of sand

might sprout up into marble, firm on a stone.
I cannot stop searching or leave them alone.

I've studied my manual on hundreds of skills

which should make me able to locate and instill

such a tiny assist, so simple to think

to add one to my life, fill up that missing link.

Some of you've snared one all yours already,

and find your lives settled, happily steady.
As I try to grasp mine, pray, hold humility, and

recall life before you caught it - elusive Stability.