She came as a butterfly breeze. As of wings displacing air. As of a kiss upon a cheek. 

We met in a club, or a pub, or just in the street? The details are as vague as the notes of her perfume; possibly jasmine, though lavender masks the realm of ghosts. We talked about nothing as everything went on around us, cooing like doves on a branch. Nobody paid us any attention. Then again, why would they have?

Time passed in shadows and light. Time does that, it passes. We stepped between the two like the ethereal lovers we were, eyes locked and hearts reaching. And, for a moment in the night, we connected. One beautiful moment. One that, for our kind, lasts forever. I hope. I pray.

She is my butterfly. I am her cocoon. 

I seek the air she occupied nightly. Some deep midnights, I even feel her there, too.  I cannot see her, and her perfume fades, but that doesn’t mean we aren’t still holding hands and kissing. Does it?

For one brief instant in this space termed death, where she and I found each other in the midst of those still living, we lived too. I shall not forget it. I shall not forget her. 

My one wish: That I dreamt her and not that she dreamt me. 

Thank you for reading

Richard

https://ko-fi.com/richardmankers