Change

A butterfly drifts by the window of the old school house.

It broke free from its pubic cocoon like a preschool karate class,

Snapping the Styrofoam in half for a participation award.

It floats by with the breeze of the wind getting the hang of the wings

that sprouted,

But there’s no training wheels for soaring.

Butterfly flew too high and was knocked out by a cloud,

And she tumbled to the caterpillar ground.

The trees caught her fall, but her wings were shattered,

The change put her head through a wall.

One clap, two clap, three clap, forty?

By clapping more or less, you can signal to us which stories really stand out.