From an exercise at writing_101

Idea was to write about a meeting at a park on a Thursday at 7 pm.

Butterfly Drinking

7 PM
ochre sun bleeds through
azure fields of sky

Park
A curious collection of patches and sunken skin
has enfolded himself upon a
weathered gray bench

creaks

groans

settles

An extended reach of the dying god Sol,
cannot enlighten
his treasured murky bottle
or the creases in the meticulously folded paper
overturned in dusky hand
Thursday ?
again, already... perhaps

Meeting
a tissue-paper ghost
flits to rest upon his forehead
slakes thirst
proboscis extended

"hello butterfly..."