Sitting at the foot of the stairs

Captive of your thoughts

Prisoner of your emotions

I watch you from above

Your neck inclined

Untroubled by your hair

Free to share its beauty

To all alert enough to see

A kiss, a flutter of a slight wing

A modest light touch

Brings pure solace to your face

Your gaze searches and

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The last butterfly

flutters its wings,

drives the waves

on the other side

of a distant ocean,

then, deletes itself

from the existence

it fleetingly owns.

We watch until

the sun disappears

over the horizon,

and the butterfly dies.

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