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Butterflies | A Poem by Donal Mahoney

Sometimes like butterflies,
words land on my ear
and sit there

wings idling till
with straight pins
I attach them

to a page
without disturbing
the dust on their wings.

I watch them and then
name them before
I release them to soar

on a zephyr as if
they were my creation.
What a fool I am.

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