We miss you, Ben Naga.
THE COLLECTOR
When you talk
The air becomes filled with butterflies
And while you talk
…………………….Surreptitiously
I catch them in my hands
And put them gently in my pocket
And when I leave you
I go home
Take them gently from my pocket
And arrange them
…………………….Like this
On a piece of paper
So that when you find out what I am doing
And no longer let them loose when I am there
I can come home
…………………….And remember …