For Patricia Janeckova

By Brooke Watson Oct 2023

 

in the perfect moments - there

her voice – there -

as the breath of the divine

drawing out the soul to savour what was our love and now

that distant planetary orbit

has stolen her wings – her pure notes

now sadly rising amongst the heavens

where once

she filled our lives

 

where once a humble butterfly so briefly

rested upon my tender garden flower then

gone without a murmer or a pause

and with no reason lit by god

no cause

she disappears

and all her breath divine

as well – not there

 

how sadly voices strain amongst the heavens

calling back Patricia

but

in vain – the butterfly has vanished

and only shuddering dust remains - dust

for each true colour of her angel voice

her perfect chrysalis the only vestige of her song remaining;

a shadow tracing where her light – her soul-enriching gilded light

once held us in a trance –

alas

her glittering multi-coloured wings

have taken flight