GARDEN WALK (WHITE BUTTERFLY)
Leaning out over the withered bench the scrawny girl giggles. She spots a white butterfly among a sea of colorful flowers. Popping red and brilliant blue waves of tiny flowers, with scores of yellow and orange peddles all sitting on an endless abyss of green hues. Her squeal of joy brings my obscured thought back to attendance, she gasps, " The butterfly has lost its color. Why?" With out reason or rhyme I simply smile, shrug and go back to my own thoughts. The sun sets and cold air chills the bones, I stand to saunter away; and check over my shoulder to call out her name. To my surprise I see the white butterfly lay still on the gnarled tree stump beside. I reach out my speckled hand and grasp the girl close, she shivers at my frozen wrinkles but accepts the embrace. "No stars tonight, the moon too will sleep and stay out of sight. Now say good bye to the flowers, for in the morning they too will have lost their colors."
As we moved along the bleak path back to our place of rest, I see a tear escape her bruised eyes, and we say no more.
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