Framed and Dried

I remember the two butterflies encircling our heads while we kissed,
do you?
I remember sitting there in the dried grass,
and the sun beating down on our heads,
on a summer day.
I remember the innocence of our passion.
I remember you asked if I could see them too,
as we briefly opened our eyes to take a breath.
Maybe they were you and I,in a different time.
Perhaps they were God's prophets from heaven.
I remember your lips and the taste of your mouth,
as they fluttered around a love so unprepared for tragedy.

"And is it right, butterfly?
They like you better framed and dried"

They pinned us down didn't they? They had their nets of reason and doubt.
It'd be more peaceful if they could just clip our wings,
contain our beauty,
and mount us on a wall somewhere.
Once framed and dried,
we can hang silently,
preserved in faded colors.
Motionless and trapped in time,
unmoving and forever changed.
Never to be in flight again...
Where is the garden that once nourished us?
Where has the flower of our love gone to?
Surely they've forgotten how beautiful we once were . ..
Can death compare to life?
They like us better framed and dried.
I hope they are happy now...