She was here but now she’s lost
A winter breeze turned into frost
A weathered hand, salt of the soil
What did she want to say?
A butterfly, resting on flower
Wings fluttered, quiet hour
I turned away, the colour foiled
Butterfly had flown away
A dog lay, forever, by my side
Recovered from energetic ‘ride’
Shuffled off that mortal coil
This dry and sunburnt day
A veil, in times of old
Worn to wed to whom one sold
Today, ‘veil’ worn for different reason
Never to relate
To whom one sold, life changed, delayed
But one still sold, uncultured, frayed
Not one enough for one of other
More to ‘expiate.’
The ‘veil’ worn, she be lost
To others, but to him, embossed
Hidden, out of sight not out of mind
She was there all day.
sensualism 