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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

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