A yellow butterfly flew across my room.
She hovered over a vast leaf on my plant,
arched body smooth like soft silk,
Like the slope of a mountain blossoming.
Her wings are paper like,
fragile like dried leaves
that will not rise from their fall.
She fluttered towards me,
but every movement was a strain.
Was this an entreaty, i asked myself,
For butterflies do not belong
Under low ceilings.
I raise my eyes to meet hers,
And I remember her eggs on the leaf.
I open my window
And I let her go.
Sigrid Kim is a student attending a high school in Virginia, where she actively engages in writing, drawing, and caring for her two beloved dogs, Oliver and Cooper. In preparation for her future academic endeavors, she is currently assembling her portfolio and has recently secured admission to Juniper’s Young Writers Camp and Sewanee.