Now I linger, looking longingly at every winged being, knowing the impossibility of a hug, knowing the fragility of love, knowing the swiftness of life's flight.
Now thinking of you in the earth, I see you everywhere. You, who did not lie down willingly, but who life took in a sudden stroke. I, who could only stroke your hand and watch appalled as you slipped the noose of life and left me numb. You were silent and elusive, transient as the butterfly which which appeared at your funeral. It rose delicately out of the lilies which adorned your coffin allowing me the poise and sustenance of a sudden beauty to read for your departure.
Now I linger, looking longingly at the Painted Lady which touches the petal of the rose and realize that in the fragility of a butterfly's wing there is strength enough to fly.
Published by Arlen House , 2014.
This copy is signed and dedicated by the author to Barney Sheehan -Barney Sheehan was for many years the host of the White House Poetry Readings in Limerick city. Signed - For Barney with very best regards, Vivienne'