A poem by Julia R. DeStefano

Photo by Kathy Servian on Unsplash


It is a strange place, this doll house

where the ping-pong ball of silence

ricochets from wall-to-wall.

I am the girl full of talk,

screaming at an unknown entity

to “listen, listen!” on a summer evening.

But the rooms are like people.

Neither can be coaxed to hear or speak.

There is a boy wrapped around my heart.

Nestled in the hope that grows there like ivy

where debris and fear had long resided.

He takes a machete to the overgrowth of silence

to unearth the butterflies cocooned within me,

and count them.

Putting a name to each one

with the feather-light touch of his fingertip.

An explorer with notepad and pen

to dive into my exotic pinks and impassioned reds

as the choir of butterflies applaud this delicate dance

of movement and knowledge.

He knows I am an endangered species.

My steps solid like a monument built to last.

Taking me from stone to woman

as we comfort each other in a cocoon of our own

because we are the flowering aces

in a wild card world.

Teaching each other to believe again

as butterflies metamorphosize.

“This is the key to everything.”

Their words, not mine.

© Julia R. DeStefano

The Red Queen in her crown. YA & adult poetry. Love & relationships. I preserve moments in the glistening amber of language. #WhirlingIntoFlame now available.