he moved his hands like the wind,
they said he was crazy

I said he was from somewhere special
where the raindrops only fall on sad days
to match your mood

and the sun's rays are magnetized to those who
have hurt, shining on their wounds and lessening
their scars

I told them to be quiet and they grew buttons
where their mouths used to be;
one fell off of a little girl and all that came out
of her lips were butterflies-
they whispered "it's true"

and those people never looked at me the same
but every now and then a butterfly flutters by
and they remember something about a boy
with hands like a summer breeze and another
world where raindrops are tears and the sun
is healing, not harmful.