The Passing Of A Butterfly

The passing It is so long ago; the memory is fuzzy as an old photo, the room was warm, the coal fire burned lustily I looked out of the window the street lamp swayed, and snow fell. I turned to my grandmother and said If the snow continues, I will take out my sledge. she was still her reading glasses had dropped on the floor, oh, yes I knew but kept looking out it looked So peaceful I will stay here and admire snow fall forever. I picked up her reading glasses placed them back on her face, we had no phone I had to put on an overcoatand tell our neighbour, but before living, put more coal in the oven, a helpless gesture, but I didn`t want her to be cold. Many people came; they took her away while I looked out of the window watching falling snow