She looked out to the river. The rumbling rapids helped to quiet her pulse. She sat crossed legged on the flat stones and gave a child’s bucket to her grandson to fill  and water the lilies on the shore. Back and forth he repeated the dunking; sauntering to the shore, splashing water on the bed of lilies. Suddenly, the little guy asked , “Why are you crying, Nana?” He pointed to a teardrop slipping down her cheek. She looked stunned, having been in another world for a few seconds, “Oh, I’m not crying, sweetheart, I was daydreaming about butterflies.”

Butterfly wings
 caress her cheek
banished tear

© Tournesol’15

Carpe Diem “butterflies”