John Rickell Poems
Butterfly Trapped In A Norfolk Church
Where were you last Christmas
hiding in the dust behind the altar
underneath an oaken pew
patched in darker brown, not oak
like the patch on a poor man's coat
The peace of God around you
trapped in loving kindness,
fading altar flowers no food for you
anxious glances to the door,
the mesh obstructed door to keep out birds,
which kept you in, had I not come.
You let me take you from the sill
filled my hand with joy
bride-like walked with me along the aisle.
I threw you to the sun and wind
saw flowers tremble in ...
If I could sculpt my love,
search for finest porphry,
I would spend my life and carve
fit for Rome or Athens to rival
all that they display, then
weave a coat of finest silk
dyed in purple, rich and royal,
clinging close as skin
to hide you for myself.