For my butterfly.

Too young. One had said

as she walked in all black under the blazing sun. 

Too soon. Another mumbled, 

afraid that the wrong person would over hear.

It had seemed that no matter

how many times we saw your face,

It would never be enough


To sustain a clear image in our minds.  

For curses find their way into memory 

and you became something I wasn't sure

was true. Yes, you were young 

and yes it was soon. But in all honesty were you

really as inspirational as they say?

Did you actually have such a impact in our lives?


The answer to that could very well be a yes. 

For since then, I've thought about you and wondered:

What would she do?

And in asking myself that question I always make the right decision. 

Not because you were perfect or any of the things 

All the others had said. But because you were mind 

and I knew you. I knew the real you and nothing you've ever done was a regret. 

To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.