Dear butterfly, fragile thing;
How dear you are to me-
And yet you fly insultingly away
As though to reject my affection.
I love you, dear thing;
You with your fragile, colorful wings-
You flutter with trepidation
Afraid of cruel retaliation
But the sweet song I sing to you
Holds no secrets at it's core;
The only cruelty I harbor
Is the one that you inflict upon me
As you drift away to unseen places
And leave your admirers in your wake.
Dearest, I love, I love, and I love you well;
I'll never clip your wings-
For you are most beautiful
When you fly free
With blues and yellows dancing on winds
For all to see.
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