lovely butterfly
small girl cries with all her heart
you lie motionless
~cie~
notes
I didn't want to write about romantic love. (Blech.) So I decided to write about one of the two things I loved very much as a child. My first experience with death involved finding a butterfly still on the sidewalk on a cold, rainy day while walking with my father at three years old. I was devastated.
Fifty-two years have gone by since then. My father is now gone too.
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