the sun had already set....

Found a dead butterfly on my way home. Picked it up, gently wrapped it up with tenderness, love and a few drops hope.
It didn’t fly away.
It didn’t stay.
The blue in its wings decayed and fatigued finally turned grey.
I wanted to paint it green.
It started snowing. The trees were white. The empty road was white. The sky was white.
Was I white too? Don’t know for sure. I couldn’t see me.
The spell was broken.
I let it slip away into the depths of the ocean.
The sun had already set.