Fly Away

I’m a butterfly who flutters between worlds;

don’t hug me or you’ll crush the wings under my T-Shirt.

I live off acorns, chocolate and fairy dust;

you can see it in my multicolored eyes.

Sometimes the only warmth and safety

is in the wardrobe or down the rabbit hole,

so when they come after me

with clipboards and whistles and steel-helmet hair,

tell them the one they call Laura Schiller

has flown away.