Jane opened her hands
and the butterfly
fluttered off

across the grass
and you watched
and she told you

what its name was
and its colouring
but you

were more focused
on her hands
the fingers held so

as if Michaelangelo
might have
painted them

in a creative urge
to pin down
an example

of beauty
and as her voice
spoke on

you saw the hands
come together
and embrace

and caress
each other
as you both walked

along the lane
between
high hedges

first this finger pointed
then that
gesturing towards

this flower
then that
names came

and colouring
and her voice sang
as she talked

the words
being flung
in the air

like a juggler's *****
and you reached out
to catch each word

and place
its meaning
but her eyes

caught you
the colour
the brightness

and fires flamed there
and they grow
only here

she said
so I’ve read
her words said

and the lips parted
just to allow
words to go

like busy bees
to work
and the glimpse

of teeth and tongue
and what do you think?
she said

beautiful stuff
you replied
not quite

the words
you wished for
but which came

like lazy boy's
to school
they are

she said smiling
her hands parting
one reaching

for yours
O that
may have been Heaven

for all you knew
a bright
sun-blessed smile
out of the blue.