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: Email a link to a friend (Opens in new window) Email Share on Mastodon (Opens in new window) Mastodon Share on Bluesky (Opens in new window) Bluesky Like Loading... Related