It is a butterfly
That sits so eagerly still
Buried deep in your mind
And in our hearts, so frail.
This butterfly is not colorful
Nor does it flutter its wings.
It calmly waits within your thoughts
Unseen, like many things.
Its hiding away
But makes itself known
With the slightest of ease.
The twitch of your fingers
Like its wing in the breeze.
The butterfly will slowly fade
And disappear in time.
But you will forever live on,
In our hearts,
And in our minds…
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