The blade is sharp, the reaper stout,
And every daisy dies.
Their souls are fluttering about—
We call them butterflies.
About This Book
A compact collection of lyrical poems that celebrates romantic devotion, natural imagery, and spiritual yearning, blending playful fairyland pieces, meditative prayers, and occasional urban portraits. The poet favors traditional verse forms such as villanelles and ballades and mixes classical and religious allusion with sensuous descriptions of gardens, moonlight, and birds. Short narrative ballads and elegiac tributes alternate with intimate love lyrics, producing a varied but unified mood of ardor, reverence, and pastoral charm.