like the scar after a rose

has taken you into its arms

like the glimmer after a star

has shone for you as it dives from the skies

like the echoes after a melody

has wrapped its slender fingers around your mind

like the breeze after a butterfly

dances for you, lives for you


the stains of beauty are but

strokes of the brush on long finished

canvases that breathe and sing,

not along hallways,

but immortalised in the scars

after a rose has taken you into its arms