Her grave and the Amaranth
A butterfly sat on her grave,
"Where are you from?" she asked.
"Far, far away from the wonderland, where dreams come true"
The butterfly said, flapping its colorful wings.
"Dreams?" she asked again.
"Yes, the never –fading heavenly flower it is,
The Amaranth.
More colorful than the rainbow,
Brighter than the sun,
More loving than the moonlight."
Moving her little hands, she said-
"Then where's mine?
Why it is so dark around me?
I can't see any light,
I can't see feel any color..."
"Your Amaranth has not bloomed yet..."
Saying this, the butterfly flew away...
The wilted Amaranth on her grave tossed its head in the breeze.
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