Butterfly
written by: Joyce Butler
He fluttered first then saw her neck.
Still as pale as his own winter wings.
Frail but beautiful things.
Flying white through the frost hours.
December, made days over. He needed to stay somewhere.
Heat from the cold on her nape as she slept,
folded his wings round her bare winter skin,
shaking thin tiny stars from his wings.
Frail but beautiful things.
He lay there all night kissed her neck through the dark.
At midwinter’s dawn she awoke, he was gone.
Joyce Butler is from Waterford, Ireland and a working class background. She’s had several articles on writers and writing published by The Irish Times. In October 2024 and November 2025 she participated in 4 online poetry workshops with poets, John Fitzgerald and Grace Wilentz, through The Gallery Press. She’s currently submitting a YA speculative fiction novel for publication.
Latest posts by Joyce Butler (see all)
- Butterfly - September 17, 2026
- An Gorta Mór – The Great Hunger - July 24, 2018
- Heathcliff - February 7, 2018
