Poem: Little Wings

Wriggling and crawling, emerging from an insignificant egg
Disgusting as bird poop, you began moving over the branches
Fearful like a miniature monster, you chomped off fresh lime leaves
One morning, in the guise of a leaf hanging upside down
You began to wither as if death would arrive anytime soon
In the stillness of dull days that went by
The lime tree bore an odd flower, called butterfly

- The Last Nomad
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