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The Butterfly
She opened wide her pale little wings
Embraced the soft and swirling air
Her tiny soul, it laughs and sings
She has not one small, fretful care
She twirls and swoops in the wild blast
Her wings, they flutter and they bend
She moves in patterns, small and fast
The sky, the wind, they are good friends
But the rain still comes, on quiet feet
The water falls like bits of lead
She flutters against it, unable to beat
This foe, she is filled with unnameable dread
As she flutters and floats to the damp, dark ground
The roaring sound of silence is all around
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This article has 3 comments.
Thanks! :) I'm glad that you liked it.
-Lilac