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Flying Angels

By: aruntp

Page 1, “Psyche” is a small transparent white butterfly, which floats slowly in grassy land without any rapid movements. It was my favorite butterfly with its pure white glassy effect color, hanging in my garden, I saw every day from morning to other morning. If I want to write a song on butterflies, I should have written the first one for this small butterfly in my garden. This poem is dedicated to this small butterfly which is the only one true friend of mine.

Lighting flash, moving slowly;

Color of angels, fluttering wings;

Dots of despair, inside purity;

Floats dancing for a tune echoed.

 

Wings of angels, slowed and slowed;

Paused for a time, my friend without murmuring;

Rest with beauty, in the breeze of eternity;

Closed eyes behind leafs of heaven.

 

Wings where transparent, as childish memory;

Reflects innocence with shadow of dots;

World was vast, beyond reach;

Hanged thinking, never told a word to me.

 

Called a flower, from the corner of garden;

Nectar is ready, vanish very soon;

Heard voice with rhythm;

Fluttered wings, moved slowly.

 

Floated dancing singing a sweet song;

Nectar was sweet, Nectar was sweet;

Flowers called again and again;

Fluttering wings never rested.

 

Garden was green, healthy and fresh;

Leafs where new, flowers scented high;

Never called me, for a feast;

Grass was bushy, and flowers where plenty.

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