(no subject)

[rhyme]

While walking home today, I saw half of a butterfly wing on the sidewalk. It was an entire segment, as if the buttefly had just left it there today and forgotten it; the pattern looked like a monarch's, but there was no milkweed in the area. The colors seemed dull, as if there was a white cast washed over them. Those kinds of things give off a sort of meloncholy feeling.

(But really, I couldn't help wondering about what had killed the butterfly.)