lepidoptera

The little butterfly struggled against the wind.

As little butterflies sometimes do.

Tossed and turned around by relentless, uncaring gusts.

The little butterfly would make progress, but then be pushed back.

Tantalizing close to where she was heading.

A feeling more than a destination.

Calm.

The little butterfly kept on.

She had been through a lot.  More than the little butterfly would admit.

To most.

Still the scars on her wings did nothing but accentuate her beauty.

Golden.

Warm.

Catching the sometimes elusive sun.

The wind blew up again.  Mercilessly.

She was whipped about.

Back to where she started.

The little butterfly kept on.

The little boy watched the butterfly struggle from his window and wished he could help.

As little boys sometimes do.

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7 Responses

  1. krystal says:

    this was great.

  2. Meghan says:

    This is just so lovely. A short little snippet. I think you should write more of these.

  3. I think I hve run out of ways to say ‘i love this’

  4. Miss OverThinker says:

    Your last line, or in this case the last couple lines always throws me off… and it did yet again!

  5. LiLu says:

    Still the scars on her wings did nothing but accentuate her beauty.

    <3.

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