She remembered the butterflies, that were now ghosts. She remembered their colors, some of them had green wings with bright coral and violet prints, others had white wings with black dots like little eyes at the edges, and her favorite were the ones that had yellow wings with black prints like honeycombs, for they seemed to be the friendliest and rested on the tip of her finger as if on top of the world. She remembered the poppy field where she picked wildflowers, the smell of the licorice that lingered in her hands, and realized, she too, was a ghost.
Aida Bode is an Albanian poet and writer. She holds an MA in English and Creative Writing from Southern New Hampshire University. See her website aidabode.com for her extensive publishing history.