Tragic Death Poem by Joan Marques

There, on the floor,
Lies my romantic moment.
Shattered to pieces
By an inconsiderate word.
Robbed from its luster,
It is gradually withering
And the thought that it once was
Is now plainly absurd.

Its colors are fading,
As do my emotions,
From purple and orange
To dull blue and gray.
The child deep within
Sees its youth disappearing
Like a treasured butterfly
That now flutters away.

As, ever so slowly,
The pieces turn dust
And finally disperse
With the air of my breath,
I find that the person
Who created this moment,
Long before its passing,
Had faced her own death.