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July 8, 1998

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Butterfly

Butterfly of brilliant blue,
I would gladly follow you
As you from the flowers sup,
Soaking golden sunshine up.
Who knows where the path may lead,
As you will your instinct heed?
You can in the forest hide
When you no more flight abide,
Resting on a tender twig,
Hiding wings so bright and big.
I would not so showy be,
Bidding others follow me.
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