all to remember our time by
a scar, a wound,
a blow to my heart and not the last
the only reminder of battle's past
the only deterent from battle's future

a soldier cowering in his trench...
afraid of death,
memories...
memories preventing the advance
the squeel of the whisstle
the flutter of my cold dead heart
wanting, willing, forceing itself free
free from myself, and free it shall be
free from me, and never agian to be my own

hauted by memories i dont have
a past that could have been ours
a future we could have shared
to share, to love
my butterfly is all but dead
lying in the snow, coverd in sleet
my love for you, there is lyies
cold withered and afraid

Threw the snow, and the cold
arises my heart, cold and alone
seeking its flower
its eternal rose
and find you it shall
for the rose, nor the flower
nor you had ever moved
never wavered from your place
your place on this mountain is constant
lost was this butterfly
scared and alone
lost within the winter it brought on
the winter it created for itself
but now rises the sun
and over the horizen stands my rose

By Jason Carney