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Tuesday, July 11, 2006

Fleet Foot

As the butterflies of Time pass by
I feel like the catcher in the rye
Running to net the drops of life
ah they slip away sooner
from the sieves of dawns and dusks
until you are left with nothing
but a fistful of dust

ps. inspired by that lovely butterfly below

1 comment:

Do said...

that's so lovely, this butterfly poem, just like the other one.

makes me wonder how to tell the butterfly about the effect he caused .. shall i print the two poems, and pin them on the tree next to the flower? shall i sit and read it there? would the butterfly understand?