I built you a garden, gentle and bright,
where daisies lean softly and lilies catch light.
A place in the quiet where I come and just be,
with the ache in my chest and your memory.
The stone bears your name beneath sky and tree,
but it’s the butterflies, Mom… it’s them who find me.
You said if you left, you’d send them our way,
blue wings on the wind to say you’re okay.
Now they come dancing, calm as a prayer,
and I swear in my soul, it’s you in the air.
They land by the fountain, they hover then fly,
like you’re reaching through heaven to hush my goodbye.
You never stepped here, but this garden still grows
with all that I couldn’t say, all that I chose.
Each flower, a story I needed to share—
a promise I’d visit, and know you’d be there.
So I’ll sit on the bench that I carved out for two,
and wait for the moment they circle in blue.
No need for a sign or a word I can hear—
when the butterflies come, I know you’re near.
©dannyray88
D