The Magic of High Tide and Butterfly Wings.

On wings and above oceans, in the days where it rained to the left while the sun peeked from the right, and underneath magical dewdrop butterfly breezes, she stood in the wind, in the freedom of imagination where windows were doorways to heaven, and fairy dust fell from the ceilings that contained her heart... above the roaring of high tide and next to the balcony where the winds untied the braids her mother had placed carefully in her hair, her tiny hands lifted, up, towards storm clouds and hidden suns... and she blew, exacting her breath to dandelion seed releasing, and counted made~up nursery rhymes, as she fluttered her heart... and out of her mouth flew a butterfly, wings beating in the rhythm of love, her eyes opened and she reached her palms to the ceiling, watched drapes fall from wings and.... fairy dust... take flight, and she whispered in a voice intelligent enough to only belong to a little girl, “Goodbye, my heart, flutter your wings to the sky, then find me one day, sprinkle me with smiles, find me and take me... home.”