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Pablo's music

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Nine year old Pablo was fixated by the drumming

rain outside the attic window, he was autistic, a 
condition his mother struggled with, Pablo had
hidden her anti-depressants behind the glass case
of butterflies. The wind outside to seemed come and go 
like a rocking chair, Pablo had taught himself to 
play guitar, he heard music in the wind and the rain
and could see musical notation in the clouds, but
Pablo kept his music a secret.
Pablo noticed his mother staring at the clouds, they
contained fire when he saw them reflected in her eyes,
he also observed the twitching of butterfly wings in the
glass case. One summer evening Pablo's mother slipped
inside the attic unnoticed, she was enchanted by her son's
rain enraptured eyes and the music he was playing. The
butterflies had vanished, Pablo had brought them back to
life allowing them to leave through the window.
The trees in Pablo's garden kept their leaves through autumn and
winter. Between the borders of dreams and sleep Pablo heard
notes no one else could hear as he dreamed about the confluence
of two rivers of light where the wind's hands bled from collecting
butterflies exhausted from attempting to reach the moon, the blood
reacted to the light, Pablo could see himself emerging from the womb,
butterflies connected like an umbilical cord, he could see the moon 
shaving off it's beard of fire in his mother's eyes, she purged her grief
in it's flames as they fell, her husband died before Pablo was born.
Five butterflies returned, they were pressed against the attic window,
his mothers last vision of her husband was of of him clutching a music
box, Pablo began to wonder if this was the source of his music.
Pablo's father sang to him in a dream, the butterflies gathered to move and
sway like a rope in search of  a bell. 

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You had me at the title.   This was really interesting.  The imagery weaving butterflies through out was intriguing .  Loved this poem.    

I wonder about this line "The wind outside "to seemed" come and go".    Did you mean "seemed to"?


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I thought you captured the spirit of an autistic child, his self-contained world, and their special talent. Just as Judi wrote it was beautiful the poem built its cohesiveness through the butterfly imagery and the music box in the end. 

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