I guess you won’t be surprised to know that I envisioned you walking in that garden, and not someone fictitious. I see there is beauty here, but also a bit of sadness. Maybe it’s because I suspect the knife’s owner might not still be with us… or that flower being the last.

“She was there until she was gone”—Butterflies are free, like in the old seventies film.
And women are free as well, they may lite upon our branch for a few seconds…but we must not try to hold them.
They will come back if they wish.
Like this poem a lot, Neville.
j.

Hello Jacob, it is good to see you have joined the new gang .. and thanks tons for reaching out & considering my little but not so new scribble .. Indeed, many thanks indeed sir & wishing you well .. Neville 😎👍

Tremendous work, as always my friend.