Seamus despises discarding the clutter
That hinders a tour of his home.
He'll stare at the wonder where butterflies flutter,
Enriching a room full of chrome.

He's fond of these creatures the chrome room attracts,
A place for parading their powers.
They land on the hub caps in haphazard stacks,
And shake these precarious towers.

Tottering buildings of bath taps and teapots
Will teeter like cars owned by clowns.
Brightly-dressed beings who once used to be moths
Are more like behemoths in towns.

Seamus has never grown tired of this marvel.
They fly in the gold evening light,
A carefree performance informed by their larval
Confinement to permanent night.

They're ignorant of the destruction they threaten
On seemingly tranquil occasions.
He senses the peril from flyers he'll let in
To watch their reflections' invasions.

After an hour in his newspaper room,
With papers from decades gone by,
He'll go to the chrome and its game played with doom.
Handlebars tremble on high.

It's sixteen years since his chrome structures last crumbled.
The clamour made frightened mice flee.
It happened when floundering butler bees bumbled
While bringing the butterflies' tea.

Thousands of things made of metal came down,
Creating a placid chrome ocean.
The crests of its waves were like points on a crown,
A peaceful king born of commotion.

Before re-assembling the gravity-baiting
Chrome buildings that fell to the floor,
He polished the pieces impatiently waiting
To soar near the ceiling once more.

When he rubbed a teapot a genie came out.
To Seamus, three wishes were granted.
His maiden request was unhindered by doubt.
He wished to have seeds of love planted.

They'd grow in the garden of Emily's heart.
Affection for Seamus would flower.
His smile's source of sunlight would set him apart.
Love's bright sunflowers would tower.

He'd known her for years but he'd never been able
To find the right words for his feelings.
He'd focussed on looking at junk in unstable
Formations approaching the ceilings.

The seeds produced flowers that bloomed overnight.
She woke up in love with her neighbour,
A feeling to garland the garden with light,
And let carefree play replace labour.

She had to be near him and hear him declaring
A love emulating her passion,
Clearing the path to becoming a pairing,
A style that was always in fashion.

They skipped down the path and took trips in the country.
It felt like they'd fled from a jail.
They dined with her cousins, the gentry who'd hunt me
If I wore a coat with a tail.

Wherever they went she revealed her elation.
She'd sing with no self-conscious notions.
Her songs about water-pollution, inflation
And vodka conveyed her emotions.

Her terrible voice would make animals run.
It sounded like torture's refrain,
A cry for a death brought about by a gun,
A sudden cessation to pain.

Seamus had nowhere to run or to hide.
People in pubs could just leave.
He feared for his ears when he walked by her side.
Sleep was his only reprieve,

Until morbid nightmares replaced charming dreams.
Her voice conjured visions of hell.
The sound was enhanced by his suitable screams.
He had to extinguish the spell.

His second request was reversing the first,
Relinquishing Emily's love,
Returning to when he'd been blessed and not cursed.
She'd been like a gift from above,

Dropped by a bomber or brought here by geese.
The genie did just as requested.
Seamus could work on his buildings in peace.
His right ear stopped ringing when rested.

The teapot is under a tower of things,
All wearing their stylish chrome coats.
His dreams harbour scenes in which Emily sings,
But now he can smile at high notes.

He's tempted to make his third wish a reversal
Of his second wish's repeal.
The first one was just an ill-timed dress rehearsal,
Too stressful to have much appeal.

But now it feels more like the day he first met her.
Her good points outweigh her one fault.
And even a blast of her songs would be better
Than silence's aural assault.

But there's no way out if his dreams are in threat,
No fourth wish to guard against doom.
He's still catching more butterflies in his net,
And setting them free in the room.