11:11 (Poem Book#2) [Trigger Warning]

butterfly grove

(Quick note. Yes I know how to spell thyme. I'm using time in a different sense. Idk.)

Butterfly grove
Where queen Anne's lace and white mulberry grow.
A soft stream gurgles on by, as in the daylight white butterflies fly. Everything the color of snow, as if drained of color from when you decided to go.
Butterfly grove,
I breathe in the sticky sweet warm air fresh with lavender and time. The smell of time distinct with memory. And the trees loom over and try to protect me. The birds chirp above and the bunnies play below. As I continue to breathe long and slow.
I take in all the memory and come at peace with it, as in butterfly grove I continue to sit.
I close my eyes and take myself to a world unknown where truth and beauty are always shown. The world has not felt real as of late. So I wander in my own worlds I create.
I lay down at butterfly grove where my ideas began to form. And in butterfly grove I came to peace with the storm. I dance in the rain life decided to throw. And in butterfly grove I'll continue to grow.