Butterfly, Fly
By: Stephanie Bardy

She stands.

On the farthest precipice of the highest mountain she has ever had to climb.
Her arms are stretched, head raised gently to the warmth of the sun.
At her back she feels the comfort, the whispered cushion of the world of love behind her.

Heart racing, body shaking, she lifts one tiny foot and steps forward.
Steps into the unknown, with a smile, and the faith of one who knows.

And she flies. She soars on wings painted with all the colors of the rainbow.
Higher and higher, shining brighter than the sun.
Lifted, guided, and held up by those she will remember.
And by those who will never forget.


Dedicated to Dana Rondeau. My Muse on many occasions. You are missed every day. I wrote this for her before she died, and she requested that I read it at her funereal. She always one to push be out of my comfort zone.

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