Mariposa

On her slim back of the neck a tattoo is about to flee
And that's my favorite blue butterfly.
A strange woman never seen her before,
She crossed the road and walked towards the park.
That was few years ago and I never met her again.
But in my lonely heart the strange blue butterfly flies in an off season.
I crossed the road and walked towards the park.

* When the feet are planted in the dirt mind is ready to bloom.

poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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