Chasing Memories Like Butterflies


encased in amber

bob up and down

like so many soap bubbles

dispersing in gentle breeze

I am running

trying to catch them

on my fingers

in my palms

long to examine them closely

before tucking them away

for safe keeping

they are fragile

my bones sharp

fingers now razor blades

they shatter one by one

drop to waiting ground

leaving nothing

but iridescent sheen

on cool morning grass


© 2017 Christine Elizabeth Ray – All rights Reserved


11 thoughts on “Chasing Memories Like Butterflies

  1. I love this, because your words are beautiful, but also because my autistic son loves loves loves bubbles, and loves watching them formed and blown by one of those machines.
    So ironically, while your poem is about how memories are like fragile bubbles, my memory of my son playing with bubbles will never burst. 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

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