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The Butterfly



The handwriting was formal, and a perfect mimicry of the forms Nunen had taught him. Except the charcoal pressure was too firm on the ragged page. The words had taken a long time to write. Before them, pages of black scribbles showed the unworthy attempts, before the author was satisfied.

 

"Butterfly fled far

Broke her wings in autumn dusk

Where tears rained like leaves."