Cheryl Lunar Wind asked me to share this poem, so here goes! ^_^
The butterfly,
the one who flits,
casting its spell wherever it may go,
spreading its magic powder,
never staying still.
The beautiful flower loves the butterfly
and its presence,
but not for long.
For the butterfly has a purpose.
A purpose so great,
It is misunderstood.
A hurricane,
waiting to happen across the globe.
And the flower,
Who knew,
Who loves the butterfly,
Who knows,
Who waits,
Who believes,
Dies happy.
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