Rare Butterfly

Sun sinking low, painting skies with fire,
And next to the old water, fueling my desire,
For something real, something to admire,
A rare, wild butterfly, delicate and higher,
Lands on a Lilypad, wings spread wide and bold,
Looking at the old water, stories to be told,
Of ripples and reflections, futures yet to unfold,
A fragile beauty, more precious than gold.

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