Jane opened her hands
and the butterfly
fluttered off


across the grass
and you watched
and she told you


what its name was
and its colouring
but you


were more focused
on her hands
the fingers held so


as if Michaelangelo
might have
painted them


in a creative urge
to pin down
an example


of beauty
and as her voice
spoke on


you saw the hands
come together
and embrace


and caress
each other
as you both walked


along the lane
high hedges


first this finger pointed
then that
gesturing towards


this flower
then that
names came


and colouring
and her voice sang
as she talked


the words
being flung
in the air


like a juggler's balls
and you reached out
to catch each word


and place
its meaning
but her eyes


caught you
the colour
the brightness


and fires flamed there
and they grow
only here


she said
so I’ve read
her words said


and the lips parted
just to allow
words to go


like busy bees
to work
and the glimpse


of teeth and tongue
and what do you think?
she said


beautiful stuff
you replied
not quite


the words
you wished for
but which came


like lazy boy's
to school
they are


she said smiling
her hands parting
one reaching


for yours
O that
may have been Heaven


for all you knew
a bright
sun-blessed smile

out of the blue.

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