there was a picture i found on the barn floor
that i never took;
a tribute to three slices of a butterfly wing
that will never fly again.
just like that sunset that won’t die again
for the wound will bleed differently tonight.
was it wrong
that i kept it to myself?

but then the wind took it
and it was gone.

(poem by Evelyn from the rain-drenched writer and art by Eve)