The fluttering of wings,
so fragile with their tiny scales.
They leave behind tear drops on every little petal.
Weep for the flowers
and their short lifespans.
Weep for the mamals
and the fishes, as well.
Weep for the clouds,
cry when they do.
Weep, small creature,
to your tiny heart's content.
I've only one question.
Who shall weep for you?
YOU ARE READING
Tears of a Butterfly
SonstigesMeh, a poem. Why not. I'm in a creative mood. Plus, I've had this thing for two years. It deserves a bit o' love. (There'll be more than one poem.)
