Saturday, April 2, 2016

Creating Butterflies

When my skies stretch out
     endlessly gray,
I gently cup my hands
    around a thought
    and blow softly.
Smiling,
    I watch  as it begins to glow,
Then when it flutters
     with life,
I remove my protecting hands
Allowing it to fly,
Shimmering all the more
    brightly against
    a somber sky.

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