Brief Life of the Butterfly
since the time he emerged in spring he’s been drifting
across the world collecting poems and songs
that he would weave together into iambic nonsense
and echo back words from memory like a parrot
as winter creeped up on him so do his final days
but he’d continue fluttering by learning whatever he hears
and dance in the chilling evening on a unicorn’s horn
because while he may not have lived long
he knew he lived full.


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