The Sound of Butterfly Wings

Despite various comments I have received, this piece was not written under the influence of drugs. I hate drugs and what they do to people. This was just a creative way to see the world. A magical, musical way

While waiting at a bus stop
A butterfly flew by
It was unusual
Colours in all the strangest places
In fact, it was so interesting
That I decided to name it
I called it Sound
As soon as I named it so
It began appearing everywhere.
Actually, it was no longer an it
But a they. There were hundreds
Twirling in the air
Coating every surface
They misted the sky
In an array of all colours 
They left their homes
Of stone, of concrete, of leaf, of metal
They followed me home
In a gigantic flutter
I stepped into the house 
And closed the door.
They all disappeared in a flash
All of a sudden
I began to feel lonely
Without my butterflies
But I knew exactly
Exactly what to do
I inserted the buds into my ears
And pressed play
A little aqua-coloured butterfly
Flew to sit on my shoulder
I continued my day
With my little friend.
I watched it flutter,
Changing its colours
I sat there for hours
When my eyes were closing
And sleep beckoned to me
My little butterfly came to my cheek 
And left a feather-heavy kiss
Its wings fluttered over me
And a dream fell on me like
Dust off of its wings
It was a dream of a place
Where you couldn't hear
The sound of butterfly wings.

The End

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