Sorry! ^_^; Again, it's a day late, but...Redeem
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“There is a butterfly on your shoulder,” she said. I looked down and indeed there was. Gaily I lightly placed my finger on it but after I did so it fell off and landed on my lap, dead. Cheryl gasped.
It seamed to have rested on my shoulder to die. But there was Cheryl right in front of me with her eyes quivering barely batting away the confused tears with her eyelashes. I suddenly felt fidgety, made restless by her eyes. And like the butterfly I knew that if I could find rest at this moment I would die. Though nothing could redeem a shattered flippant moment of frolic, the fine shards of which could reduce anyone to tears.
There she was seated on the blanket one beautiful summer afternoon with her ankles barely peeping out from her skirt. There was a daisy behind her ear, or rather a wildflower we found and called a daisy. Her sundress rivaled the sun. Before her lay sandwiches and a large thermos of coffee while behind her were our bicycles. Somewhere in my gut something tried to crawl down deep in the earth rather than see her this way, crumpling at the reality of death. But I loved her so I held out my hand and found hers and squeezed.
It is a sorrow perhaps to have a butterfly perch on my shoulder to rest before it died, but I found the happiness of loving and being loved by a girl that could change such a beautiful summer day into a sad poem with tears she wouldn’t let flow for the death of a butterfly.</b>
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