Madame Butterfly

Madame Butterfly Sara L Russell 10th July 2012 The painted lady waiting in the wings Now parts her lips to sing her lover's name; She enters, arms spread outwards as she sings Like some fantastic orchid made of flame. She scatters fragrant petals in the hall And yet more petals round the master bed Her sweet song echoes like a linnet's call Her swirling silks are edged with golden thread. Then comes a telegram from overseas To say her love will not return again The lady falls, still singing, to her knees; Her heartbeat speeds, like wings beating in vain. Such is the way of love made through a lie; Like chloroform, to kill a butterfly.