Remember, all comments are much appreciated and loved be them criticism or positivism. Just enjoy and next week the story shall continue on.
In the mean time, a thirty second poem on butterflies.
Butterfly
Neither a fly
or buttery
Yet it has wings
and soars.
An array of colours
each one more unique
than the last.
Like humans
they have their own
language.
Like humans
they are
individuals.
Stripes or spots.
Faces or eyes.
Patterns or solids.
They wave their wings
to entice a smile,
to share some joy.
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