Wildflower Afternoon

With your nerves stretched paper thin, you tend to lose control. When you are down- -no chance to win, and feel need to sell your soul. Finding your back against the wall; no dreams, no tricks of fate. No harvest waits to gather in the fall. A butterfly morning breaks. I’ll not blame the poor days on fate, nor give up on life too soon. While butterflies flit I linger late on a wildflower afternoon. Charles Henderson