
Tattered wings, edges of a storm that ripped you to shreds
Yet, there you are, feeding off the Echinacea
You didn’t pause to tell me your story
There was no moment of commiserating
You went about your beautiful day
Without apologizing for not being perfect
Without seducing me into sympathizing
As if nothing had happened last night
Torn in the wind, thrown around
I can only imagine how that felt
Yet there you were, calling me from my car
Come see me
Come see me
I’m still beautiful
Yes I AM
6.20.20
Photos of a butterfly with torn wings in Mamma Mia’s garden


Comments