In the early morning hours,
Out of the grayness,
Out of the dullness,
As the sun slowly creeps out,
I see two bright specks of color coming my way,
And for a moment I can feel joy approaching.

As they come closer,
I start to see,
The thin, fragile wings,
The intricate patterns, and the vivid hues,
Of the butterflies.

They shyly flutter around the flowers,
I can almost feel their curiosity,
Finally they come,
Floating down gently,
Like two feathers in the sky.

Seeming so free and fresh,
Without a care in the world,
I gaze at them in wonder,
Watching them dance together and enjoy themselves,
Not realizing I had been holding my breath.

Suddenly,
One drops to the ground,
Like a bird shot down in the sky.

I slowly walk over,
Afraid of what I would see,
And there it lay,
Still as a rock.

The other butterfly was still fluttering around,
I can feel its confusion,
Its questions,
Asking what happened,
Not understanding what happened to its partner.

I know there’s nothing to be done.
The butterfly, in its ignorance, does not.
It lands on my arm one last time,
And I can barely feel its touch,
Then,
I see one speck of color drifting away.

I feel as if it was telling me something.
Showing me how delicate, how breakable our lives are,
How many ways something can go wrong,
And then escaping to a safe haven,
As if it felt that I should do the same.

Now, every time I see a blue butterfly,
I look around,
Trying to see,
How many things could go wrong at that moment,
And having a new appreciation every second.