no butterflies

happening upon the grave of a stillborn child in a Scottish Victorian graveyard...

among the heather and ivy wild
a cherub for an unborn child
grief untempered by the years
in solitude’s eternal tears
beneath this weathered statuary
the earth serves as her nursery
but no dusted sun will light her face
no laughter rings around this place
just silence save wildflower’s sighs
that she shall see no butterflies

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