I watched a butterfly..
That would dance its way..
Within my folded hands..
Sticking to my fingers..
A soothing touch by its ends
It would sing by its wings..
Sizzle with the morning drizzle..
With every possible glee..
Reminding me of free..
Flapping by my ear..
It would steer..
My inner to be clear..
Of the constant clutter that..
Dampens the mind..
And refuses to flutter.


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