The Butterflies Still Sing.
I spread before me
the pictures of you
that I've collected over the years
Memories and mementos.
Each one filed carefully in my heart
I look at all the wrong choices
We have made.
I look at all the love we wrapped around each other,
glittering in the air
or like diamonds.
I read the words,
the promises and disappointments,
and find I am no longer bitter.
I hold each picture dearly,
Even those most painful.
You've shaped me into who I am,
molded me into myself.
I am thankful.
Even though I have moved past,
and the white rabbit doesn't run so fast,
the haberdasher goes about his own business,
and the caterpillar has transfo