The Butterfly Project

The butterfly rests upon my wrist, Its wings emblazoned with swirling colors of a Cassia tree That fade to blue at the edges of its wings, And accented with a symmetric and swirling pattern Of faint black lines and speckled dots that remind me Of the Milky Way on a clear summer night. It stares at me with eyes too wise and knowing To belong to an insect. In those endless black orbs, I see life with all its good intentions. I see a second chance at a life I thought lost. I see a mother who guides Her child onto a safe path, Brothers and sisters who always Have each other’s backs – regardless Of how much they think they hate each other, The kind stranger who brought me a steaming Mug of hot chocolate as I worked outside in the freezing snow, And the paramedics who rescued me and the firefighters who raised me. I see my best friend and all of our mischievous adventures - All of our conversations lasting ‘til sunrise – And all the times we spent being each other’s therapist. I see my lover and the countless times he filled my stomach with butterflies. And made me melt into a pile of goo – Stutter and lose my train of thought - Grin from ear to ear - And build me up when my walls came crashing down. I see those moments I spent Whispering. Shouting. Crying. Hugging. Laughing. Loving. With all those who are dear to my heart. The butterfly looks at me, With the ghost of a smile on its face, And flutters away to rest on another Lost soul’s wrist to give her a second chance.