(i guess you could say that this is a part two of Melancholy clouds in the silver moonlight )
The Sun shined its Golden light on the forest Floor as Mother Nature's Paint brush covered the Sky is hues of Gold, Pink, Orange, yellow and Purple.
The Trees seemed to Part for the the golden light as it fell to the ground, illuminating everything. The Gurgle of moving filled the forest as a stream ran over some rocks, striping them of the rough exterior and revealing the beauty inside of them.
The Clouds looked down, No longer Agitated or Melancholy, for there was no reason to be. All was well. A Butterfly flew and landed on a slim tree branch; it's beautiful wings shining in the light. It stayed for a moment, then flew away, tending to whatever butterflies tend to. Of Course, It's not known' what they tend to.
Why would it be? The fragile creatures fly around, seemingly unbothered by the questions of the birds or the taunting of the bee's.
They're unmoved by Humans imprudent need to capture them, displaying their beauty for the world to see. The Butterfly knows it's beauty is captivating. Nevertheless, it knows it has other purposes than to just sit idle and watch humans become enraptured by them.
So they fly off, paying no mind to the humans who want them to stay.
They fly, yes fly, into the Golden light.
The Crimson Butterfly.
YOU ARE READING
Creative Writing
De TodoThese are some of the stories i have written. either for creative writing class, or just because i love to write.
