A single butterfly under domed glass,
Held there to keep him safe and pass the time.
He wondered what happened to a certain little girl,
And he forgot how to fly.

The blue of his wings turned to a dusty gray,
Until he refused to show them anymore one day.
The strangers got bored and stopped waiting for that,
A colorless and lifeless creature is hardly worth looking at.

But the little girl remembered him and cries.
She looks down and bends her scraped knees,
Her butterfly, now black and blue of a different kind.
The whispers and promises to never leave.

Lips pressed to the invisible barrier,
Her lashes wet and cold against her cheek.
As she prays for his poor little wings to beat,
She throws the glass and it breaks in the thin air around her.

Lifts him up into her palms,
Purple at the wrists.
Hoping it’s not too late,
For one last butterfly kiss.