Her laugh breaks through the chaos on the pool deck
And is recognizably the one
Belonging to the light, bubbly blonde
Little Miss Perfect
Floating, gliding over everyone else

Gray clouds invade the sky
And I loose sight of her.
Reason and judgment become impossible to grasp
And the confusion is overwhelming
As I try to understand this unusual creature.

One moment she is a social butterfly
Fluttering around
Always equipped with a joke or giggle
Warm, but perhaps a few degrees too high

Suddenly she will recoil
Retreat into her cocoon
And not even poke her head out
For weeks

Sometimes she’ll emerge the bubbly butterfly
But there are also occasions
When she goes back
To the caterpillar
That is much less beautiful
And much more alone

Of course,
As they all do,
The butterfly always returns
But is flighty, coming and going

And no matter how much I pry
And search
I can’t seem to uncover
The mystery location
Of her endless migrations