I Stopped for a Butterfly

A small black butterfly crossed my path.
I stopped in front of her so she could pass.
On her journey, she came to rest at last,
On a lone willow tree that wept over tall grass,
By a mighty river with water that runs fast;
On the willow tree she moved her wings gracefully,
Like a seasoned ballerina whose performances are legendary.
From a distance, I admired her beauty,
Then she took off suddenly
And flew over the river beautifully.
Safe travels on your journey black beauty;
Butterfly, I hope you remember me.

dash-of-color

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