I don't know
where she is
or where She is
as my grandmother
peers out the window
into the heavenly
landscape of her garden
two white butterflies dance
mirroring the light *****
of the others wings.
breathless
my grandmother’s eyes turn misty
hand on her heart
grasping my fingers into knots
her voice clipped
there they are,
and she clutches onto me
as the sisters whirl themselves
around the ashen and lilies