Metamorphosis

Just something for my creative writing class, following the guidelines.

The beautiful butterfly
flew gracefully, gently, across
the pale blue sky.  Her wings colored
yellow, orange and speckled with spots
of black.  She fluttered her wings, pausing

often to suckle the lovely
nectar offered by lilacs and
lilies in this particular
garden.  At the outskirts of it
sat a young girl of fifteen, her

face in her hands, weeping softly
over the hurt of her very
first heartbreak.  The butterfly spoke
to the girl, "Don't cry, for this will
help you grow into a butterfly."