With a flutter of its wings the butterfly has drawn me in,

The drizzle of the nectar sweetens the pull of when,

The beautiful creature has to speed its search,

Of other colors and sunlight that doesn’t hurt,

Avoiding predators and absorbing the rays of daylight,

Where shall I land and where shall I set my sights,

I think it will be where the colors are the brightest,

Where the feel of the warmth and the sting of the pain is the slightest,

Hold your hands out and let me land in the lines of your hand,

Let’s slow down time and decrease the speed of the sand,

Falling in accords with the limits of time,

as we all make our own wind rattle the chime,

To settle the beauty of the butterfly onto its final destination,

To make comfort and love our final station.

Derick Stinson



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