Thursday, April 01, 2010

april post-a-poem {1}

his name was gunther
and his hair was stone cold white
he told me he could speak german
if i liked...
that his hands were as soft as butterflies
and that his wife
once told him
that when she died
{when death finally said yes}
that's what she would be...
a butterfly.

that she would come back to him
and he would know it was her
because she would land on his fingertips
and no one would be able
to tell
where he stopped


lissa said...

don't what the photo has to do with the poem but I like that it sort of tells a tale, a wonderment to think on

Nat said...

Did you know...
that sometimes when we hold hands, I try to feel exactly where he ends and I begin. I am never really sure.