“Between the Changes”
Butterflies
were growing in the guns until the wishing star came back. Of course, it was the spring of their return
which caused mayhem and dismay for this planet of a grand size. Maybe the weather would return sooner for
them than expectation commanded or plenty of fish danced beneath the clouds
toward a roaring storm? A magical
unicorn was roaring, too. The whole
animal kingdom was roaring as dirty rats swam in fairy floss, children knew the
sun, aliens glowered over fun devices, and magnetism swept through the air in
fictional mystery. Police earlier had
taken exotic elves out to the managed kitchen where Columbian drinks were set
aside against a counter that showed extreme forms of cleanness.
“What’s this?” inquired an officer as he pulled off a compromise between two friends for chilling out.
“Just shut up, will you? Fred, it’s been nine toward the stars and we’re growing feet!” Ears in the room dismantled after Sojourn Zenith raised a bar and butterflies suddenly soared from the small turrets. Butterflies of different colors hit the air. Some of those fancy bugs, if I were reckoning a truth of greater defeat, turned against a dreaming window and perfected their show of transient colors, hues which repeated to blink with tremendous feat.
“Don’t get us wrong now!” Fred hollered.
“Why should we listen, Mr. Zenith?” Two of Fred’s pals chimed in at once with glory in demeanor.
“Butterflies are so beautiful when the wind turns around to chuckle at their wings.”
Don’t get me wrong: butterflies often made formations with less flesh than humans did. Some fancy bugs just seemed to transcend on matters with thin bodies of weight which were perfect and alluring for drifting, hanging in the air, going against all rain to remind newcomers to dreamlands of why glitter would better be touched by magnificence of flight to in turn stream throughout transitions. Police and elves that day knew there’d gleam so many practical forms and images that butterflies who moved on all marks of a compass could combine in a kitchen to reveal their awkward transcendence on beauty within creative sizes, thus a bar of chocolate was raised and little toy guns shot out the colorful herds above glowing ground.
“What’s this?” inquired an officer as he pulled off a compromise between two friends for chilling out.
“Just shut up, will you? Fred, it’s been nine toward the stars and we’re growing feet!” Ears in the room dismantled after Sojourn Zenith raised a bar and butterflies suddenly soared from the small turrets. Butterflies of different colors hit the air. Some of those fancy bugs, if I were reckoning a truth of greater defeat, turned against a dreaming window and perfected their show of transient colors, hues which repeated to blink with tremendous feat.
“Don’t get us wrong now!” Fred hollered.
“Why should we listen, Mr. Zenith?” Two of Fred’s pals chimed in at once with glory in demeanor.
“Butterflies are so beautiful when the wind turns around to chuckle at their wings.”
Don’t get me wrong: butterflies often made formations with less flesh than humans did. Some fancy bugs just seemed to transcend on matters with thin bodies of weight which were perfect and alluring for drifting, hanging in the air, going against all rain to remind newcomers to dreamlands of why glitter would better be touched by magnificence of flight to in turn stream throughout transitions. Police and elves that day knew there’d gleam so many practical forms and images that butterflies who moved on all marks of a compass could combine in a kitchen to reveal their awkward transcendence on beauty within creative sizes, thus a bar of chocolate was raised and little toy guns shot out the colorful herds above glowing ground.
https://gameuniverso.deviantart.com/art/Between-the-Changes-714861607
No comments:
Post a Comment