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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=392489" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>A Butterflies Query & A Little Girl's Anomaly...</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">An Ediths Checkerboard spoke to a child, <br>asked, why do butterflies die so young? <br>I have no idea, I 'm just a little girl, but<br>Chrysalis and Wing-dusts do take its toll, <br>and a plethora of the forementioned two<br>has propensity to transmorgrify an imago<br>into a houndstooth, wool eating hole making <br>mother munching moth of Versace tasting, <br>albeit, ha-ha, that really never happens, at all, <br>as I heard a wise cat tell a ''piller'', TALL <br>that you can never ever really 'catch a' piller', <br>for their addiction to flight is a dangerous thrill-er<br>until the 'piller' is caught, cuffed...redeemed- <br>so I found out one day reading Time Magazine<br>You see 'pillers' fly high... just like you, <br>it's what ''pillers'' and butterflies do; <br>they just land from a different dimension, <br>due to take-off and half-baked suspension, <br>and I heard that it's scarry and so temporary<br>that it obscures the ''pillers'' perception.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">My, my said Edith, how precocious you be, <br>How is it you possess such knowledge of me? <br>an erudite scope of polymorphistic knowledge; <br>might I ask if you've attended a bug college? <br>Your amplitude finds me and shines me, <br>my family and fellow liepidoptra seeds! <br>Said the little girl to the Edith butterfly, <br>with a wide white-tooth mile of smile <br>mischevous, perhaps but quite wise<br>that shone through her little girl eyes, <br>'I 'm not sure, to be sure, <br>but one twilight, by shore <br>I saw a Brood of butterflies 'neath the sun, <br>and I think butterflies could live past year one <br>if they, and their mates could curtail their Brood-ing <br>that they appear to exercise with such flair and well-doing, <br>in the late afternoon by the curious loons<br>as sun passes torch to the new evening moon, <br>behind the swampiest of weed that guises the bay<br>where butterflies choir their Brood-ing ways<br>'neath the summer sky of celestial light<br>as they kick-up their wing-dust all through the night.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Frank+James+Ryan+Jr.">Frank James Ryan Jr.</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=392489" data-title="A Butterflies Query & A Little Girl's Anomaly... de Frank James Ryan Jr." data-description="An Ediths Checkerboard spoke to a child, 
asked, why do butterflies die so young? 
I have no idea, I 'm just a little girl, but
Chrysalis and Wing-dusts do take its toll, 
and a plethora of the forementioned two
has propensity to transmorgrify an ..."></div>
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