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The color of your eyes reminds me of a story
I heard once
about a girl who almost died (or so
she said) one June afternoon
as she lay in an emerald meadow--
as she lay dying
a butterfly flittered past her nose.

they say that just before death everything
seems extraordinarily enchanting
and the wings of that butterfly shone an iridescent glorious blue
so brilliant
that she lept to her feet and danced
death cheated once more

don't cry, my tawny-haired boy,
if your arms are cold and empty
I'll soon be there to warm you

14 June 2000