The damp, smothering smell.
It coats the lilies,
My lilies,
Pretty and orange.
Tears fall on the stone above,
Like a gentle rainstorm.
The sky rumbles in the distance,
Rain will come too.
The world goes quiet,
The light is dimming,
Nightfall will soon be upon us.
Footsteps now,
Coming to and going away.
Mumbled grief,
Muttered sorrow,
Someone is kneeling down,
Waiting to be alone.
All movement vanishes,
He is the only soul around.
It starts out quiet,
Almost silent.
The sound grows,
Little by little,
Weeping,
Then wailing.
His tears patter onto the ground,
He begins talking to himself.
“Lovely girl,
My pretty little butterfly,
Flutter my love,
Fly away from this place of death and morning”.
He starts to weep again.
Overcome by emotion,
He lies down,
Rests his fever-stricken head.
Soon he is asleep,
I can feel him shiver,
My angel is cold.
I bend my lilies down to cover him,
I bring my butterflies to blanket him,
Their beating wings stop the raindrops from reaching his precious face.
I will keep him from harm,
He needs me now.
My butterflies will stay with him,
Whispering secrets of love into his ears,
Brushing his cheek with their wings like my eyelashes once did,
I will keep my angel safe.
Maggie
