A butterfly collided with
my face, today,
as I meandered along that trail.

His wings bruised a kiss
upon my forehead,

echoing another day long ago,
or maybe from a past life
along a different trail.

I can no longer be sure.

And when I blinked
to rediscover myself,
we were both crying, again.

So I brushed him away
toward the dirt road
and kept walking,

My forehead still stinging,
faintly,
marked with a tiny, red heart.