Reading excerpts of his cherished poems,
As the ocean breeze fluttered past our noses offering the smell of salty water,
He taught me many lessons.
Although I didn’t understand all of the words
That floated out of your mouth and settled on my ears,
His expressions told the story.
Long ago, when I was much younger,
Before he left,
He told me a story of a friend who had passed.
He recited ballads to me, lyrics of all the grief.
I could read their lines across his forehead.
He told me that after her funeral, a butterfly clung to his shadow,
And came every day to perch herself upon the flowers.
Even though the pain encased him with a chrysalis he could not break,
He told me that inside he still transformed
And every day that his friend landed on those flowers, he grew.
Months have waxed and waned,
As I try to remember the luminosity of his eyes.
Even now I watch the flowers
That are starting to fold into shades of brown,
And wait for a butterfly to perch himself upon them.