A noble butterfly quivers gently in the air. <br />A wing of deep violet bends further with the strain of its flight. <br />The aura of innocence surrounding it fills with the worst of connotations. <br /> <br />With time, marks come. <br />Worn lavender spots, almost an iridescent white, shimmer in sunlight, <br />An epitaph of contrast. <br /> <br />This prone insect, its fight for life diminished, <br />Lays there. <br />The mark of its own death, <br />It becomes the headstone of its own demise.<br /><br />Melissa Nikolova<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/and-for-that-i-weep/
