when the butterfly flies all the colours are extra bright
helping to navigate through the night
when winter comes and the butterfly dies
i hope the colours settle into the snow so white
drowned out with wood and nails
chipping away at all the details
soaked hues let us know it was there
tracks covered over, stop a bit and stare
what beauties could be waiting in the shadows
the simplest of noises nobody knows
see it through the downpour, taste it in the air
tracks covered over, stop a bit and stare
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