Butterfly
Why must this great oak always fall in love with a butterfly?
The beauty and grace
Lasts just three short summer days
These steadfast roots look at wings in envy
I'd gladly trade the many moons of quiet existence
For just a few moments of romantic frenzy
Unseen, impending death draws near,
Like the breath of the wind
Where life is at an end before it begins
But seeing you fly
So careless, so free
Reminds me
Why I will always fall in love with a Butterfly
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