A Triolet for Nature
The trees whispered soft, tuneless melodies.
Where do butterflies go when they die?
They fade into inaudible memories.
The trees whispered; soft, tuneless melodies.
The wings flutter left and right.
With a bow and dip they say “Goodnight”.
The trees whisper soft, tuneless melodies.
Oh say, where do butterflies go, when they die?
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