There are no more white butterflies
hovering between
the waves and the heads of the bathers
between the whims of the children
and the sighs of the elderly.
There are no more white butterflies
to chase in this September sky
wet of rain, full of tears, wide as the sea.
There are no more white butterflies
in the smile of the glance.
It was a quick flight, lightning
what was separating us
irregular and conscious
candid and incomprehensible
as the trajectory uncertain
in the bushes, flowers and grass
of a small white butterfly
tired, but happy
who loved us and forgiven us.
There are no more white butterflies
to admire and wait
the last is flying in the sky
with you
lying on your heart.
§
§
§
extract from poems book “Invisibile infinito amore”
Angelo Fonte
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There are no more white butterfliesultima modifica: 2019-06-15T14:50:18+02:00da
17 ottobre 2022
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