I have those tiny neon flowers and butterflies stuck on my bedroom wall that I face when I sleep. Those glowing beauties turn out to be my last sight before I fall asleep. Both the flowers and the butterflies have smiling faces, as an attempt to fill my nights with happy dreams. Sometimes the smile transforms into naughty grins. Staring on to them longer, I find them impatient at times. I'm sure they are up to something.
I guess as soon as I set sail to the dream land, they come alive. The butterflies exchange the stories of the places they have been with those they haven't seen. The flowers nod their tiny heads to the tales they overhear. And then, as if after the long wait of the day, the butterflies flutter hastily towards their beloved flowers. After a long nectar-sweet kiss, they make love in the silent bliss of the dark hours.
At the break of dawn, their souls bid goodbye, only to come back the next night. When the first rays of sunlight fill me with life, I open my eyes to find them lifeless and slowly camouflage into the white-washed wall. Anyone visiting my room in the broad daylight wouldn't even notice them. These days my tiny friends are not as happy as before. Maybe they are annoyed because lately, I've been staring at them for much longer into the night.
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