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The Butterfly

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                     
With a smile so sweet, a spirit so high,
Up in the hills I met this butterfly.

It was a soul so pure, with no sense of fraud.
With beauty sublime, it felt like love of God,

Dressed up in colors just two, it had pretensions so few,
Elegant like the royal blue, it was a feeling so new.

Flying free, tasting juices of lime and apple green,
Humming its own songs, it was a beauty unseen.

Everything went fine, alas! The last smile,
This butterfly’s impression was going to last for a while.












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