Day 864, weeds. Day's pictures, Poetry When butterflies don’t fly. Fading away, overwhelmed in lies. Wings eager, restricted by weeds. Cracked mud of the soil grades the time. When butterflies couldn’t fly. Share this: Click to email a link to a friend (Opens in new window) Email Click to share on Mastodon (Opens in new window) Mastodon Click to share on Bluesky (Opens in new window) Bluesky Like Loading... Related