Butterflies

Puffs of white cotton clouds
Swam across a brilliantly blue sky
And they had lain there
The morning dew wet against their faces
Watching the flitting specks of yellow butterflies

Drawing the curtains she paused at the sight of her reflection
Her eyes strayed to the lines he had traced on her neck
Raw and still red at places,  she winced as her fingers brushed over them

With a deep breath she turned away
Scattered light infiltrated the gaps
And fell on broken glass
The long trail of broken shards ended in a pool of glitter
Dimly shone in the fading light
Lay a glass encased wooden frame
Craftily captured and artistically glued at three points
Were three yellow butterflies