Flowers and butterfly wings.

A May evening filled with

Flowers and butterfly wings

And light.

He knows this man

A friend he has not seen for a time.

Yet he must go

In favour of logic and justice and life.

And he does.

There will be no touch

And now he must wait

For a time which may never come

A time he may only know

In fleeting memories and imaginings

Which flood his heart on summer nights

Where flowers and butterflies and light.

Would fill the days and fill their nights.