Wings of Butterflies

This is something that woke me up one night, almost screaming to be written.

I close my eyes to reality; it's too painful and I need rest.  Behind my closed lids, there is sun and warmth and hope . . . and butterflies.  They are fliting from here to there, barely pausing in their endless gliding.  It's a beautiful sight to behold, but it's not real.

Reviews

[cfix]

A wonderful little write here. I like this.

[Sukriti Suki]

A nice thought...seems a bit raw but good nonetheless.