Alzheimer: Do Ghosts Cry? | home
Butterfly
The evening light was on, the windows open to let in a bit of fresh air. Trapped by the light, the butterfly entered.
Trying to get out, it banged its head again and again against the window pane while the open window was not more than a hand away.
Carefully I pushed the butterfly towards the opening,
My finger touched the wing,
The butterfly fell, frantically moving its useless wing
I crushed the butterfly
An left the window open.