Queen Anne’s Lace and a Butterfly race,
wings a flutter and I try to brace .
Caught up in a butterfly race, soaring
high an I’m keeping pace.
Over the mountain and beyond the dell,
the little butterfly waved a big farewell.
Flit and floating on a sunshine dream,
my heart beat picks up steam.
Vision clearer then could ever be, as I
glazed on down through the sycamore
trees. Flapping to the gentle breeze are
the wings of a butterfly just set free.
~~~
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