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early days ***** PRETTY BUTTERFLY
my childhood poem
there is a pretty butterfly
merrily waits the sun to shine
with purple wings she uses to fly
over the wind, a passer-by
this pretty butterfly
flying low and high
beneath cloudless blue sky
above flowers show un-shy
when i cry, mine eyes would dry
as I stare the pretty butterfly
If I have wings i use to fly
she never leave me and says goodbye
poem
by
Rommel Mark Dominguez Marchan
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