Butterfly wings.

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My butterfly stands waiting at the window for her fluttering friend to arrive. Patience has kept her there for 90 minutes and the time has still not come, so still she waits as she teeters on the edge of forever. Shoes on, hair self brushed and bag packed with the teddy. The pink teddy that is almost nine, just like her. The sun is falling across her mousy blonde hair, streaks are appearing, she says, mum, take the colour of your hair so I can see the real colour, go look in a mirror I tell her. She giggles and shows me her matching freckle by the base her thumb, just like mine. How many minutes, she asks, a while I reply knowing no answer will appease her as time has currently stopped in her world. I sit back and watch her, her eyes are sparkling and I see the tiny fluttering of her wings…my phone beeps. ‘They’re on their way sweety’. I swear I just saw her soul soar into the sky and do somersaults. 

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