Little Butterfly

June 21, 2011
The butterfly’s wings beat
As soft as a baby’s breath
His antennae smudging
The inky edges of death

Pools of black
Swirl at his feet
Drowning the little butterfly
‘Til none can hear his soft wings’ beat

The sound grows faint
As the ink trifles
Building and rising
‘Til his wings’ flutter is stifled

Oh little butterfly
Where have you gone?
Lost at the ink edges of death
Unfound, ‘til the new day dawns

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