There are legends speaking of
butterflies as an angel's kiss,
And I have seen it. I saw it happen when a friend grieved.
She lost her mother making her alone with no family close.
Cried tears with deep lonely shivers only to stop, and receive a gift.
As soft fluttering of a butterflies wings settled so gently on her arm.
Tiny it was and with no blaring brass announcement.
There was a look of incredulity on friend's face resting there,
Upon countenance shocked, made strong, but not brought to harm.
Whether wings of Monarch or Black Swallowtail
Such a delicate way of voicing the master's wisdom
How infinite, full of secrets, mysteries so immense
Why won't we investigate the intricate mail?
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