Maybe we are blind butterflies in the breeze.
Maybe the sun flares sharp blue at its edges.
Maybe the beagle has a beautiful voice.
Maybe the dandelions belong in the garden.
Maybe the world is on fire.
maybe we are kindling.
Maybe the best stories should be hushed until they become legends.
Maybe the glass slipper doesn’t fit and the Ash girl keeps sweeping.
Maybe stars don’t die.
maybe they open up like oysters and spill pearls upon the earth.
Maybe we never find it,
gilded realization that we see mist.
Maybe we never get to unfurl it,
punch away its festooned clouds.
Maybe it doesn’t matter.
maybe our eyes are enough.
maybe this is how it should be:
blind butterflies in the breeze,
fluttering to oblivion.
Gia is an eighth grader living in Newton, Massachusetts. She often uses poetry to reflect on her observations about everyday life. In her spare time, Gia enjoys reading, writing, and watching Netflix. She has previously been mentioned twice in Stone Soup Magazine’s honor roll.