~ Photo: Tanya Lee Markul / Les Rebelles ~

By Rosey Stone.

On the edge of the concrete,

Struggling in limbo for

a last flight.

Peaceful anguish flutters

in big black eyes.

Windy wing master wins,

frail crimson powder falls

and dissolves into none.

Shelter in a dry leaf,

as the endless changing sky

filters sunlight between fibers,

casting fear-frozen warmth

into each and every string.

Field flowing serene green,

tiny purple offering a strand

of sand to the place between

each heartbeat.

*****

 Rosey Stone is a painter, sketcher, dreamer , writer, but mainly a wanderer. In her own words: “This poem was written after a morning walk, where I found a dying butterfly on the side of the road. I carried her on a leaf to a field, and watched each instant as she struggled to stay alive. A little part of me died with her as she left. I placed a purple flower by her corpse and wrote this poem in my head.” You can contact Rosey on Facebook.

*****

{Rebelle Heartbeat.}

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