How the butterfly got his colours. (Blogathon Post Fourteen)

Long ago, when the world was new, and Nature played with colours and fragrances,and music and life, trying to create beauty from a clod of earth, and harmony from a discordant note, butterflies had no colours. They were the plainest of creatures, appearing in a deep shade of black.

Each morning, the butterflies set out to find the brightest of flowers, for their food of sweet nectar.And each evening, they returned, content and full. Nature provided them with the best of her lot- bright, vibrant, colourful flowers.In that garden of beauty, the butterflies ruled.

In a corner of the enchanting garden blossomed a tiny flower of the most exquisite shade of orange, with a touch of creamy white around her lovely lips.She swayed with the gentle breeze, her smile lit up the blue skies.With the break of a new day, the flower was witness to the coming of the butterflies. As she saw them come, her heart felt light as a kite. She felt extraordinarily happy, ready to forge a bond, ready to experience a little magic. 

A young butterfly gently alighted on her, drawn to her strange and arresting beauty. She welcomed him like a long-lost friend. Messages were exchanged, yet words were unnecessary. Tales were told, songs were sung. The butterfly lingered on, not wanting to go back home. The flower wanted him to stay.And so he stayed.As the afternoon wore on, the flower felt the depth of his soul, but she knew she had to make the most of her time.

The evening sun went down behind the hills. The little flower knew it was time.
Time to bid adieu.
Time to let him go.
How do you let go of a loved one just like that?
Without giving him something to remember you by, something to say, ‘I’ll always think of you’ ?

The butterfly said his teary goodbye and rose up in the air.His tiny wings now had a smear of orange.

For the hues of loved ones linger on..deep in our souls..sometimes on our wings. Just so, that when we want to fly free and reach for the stars, we may be assured of a little colour, a little life, and a little joy.

And that’s how the butterfly got its colours.

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