Butterflies

She walks like this, since ever.
Shuffling.
Advancing slowly.
Very slowly.
Hurting cobbled street with deep furrows.
Shuffling.

She walked as she had learnt
after skinning her knees walking on all fours.
Each advance must be worth it.
Very slowly.
Not mistaking the direction.
Shuffling.

An ancient angel sat on the corner
staring into the distance,
having saw it all many times ago.
The tired angel looks at his feet (his own ones)
resting dirty on the cobbles.
Looks at the grey hard floor.

The gray hair angel
puts her feet, as his own ones,
on the ancient floor. On it.
He fills the furrows with one hand
and with the other one helps her walking two steps.
The third one is born, like a tingling, from the red soles.

She looks downwards. And around. And backwards.
She looks at the ancient angel.
She cries a moment with anger.
And smile an instant with relieve.
She makes three more steps testing
Understands the 'staying' of the stone
and flies away.

The angel goes back alone to his corner.
He's seen it all many times ago.
Now, sometimes, he rescues butterflies.
Other wolfs. Other dolphins.
Sometimes...