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An orange butterfly on blue pebbles,
A humming bird opening to hug a flower,
A kiss given in a dream.
A patch of land in the middle of a river,
With a single tree;
Beautiful in its loneliness,
Lonely in its wildness.
A ripple in the water,
The soft touch of a potter's hands.
Sitting in an old car
On a ledge
With the birds and the rising sun.
The mood that makes one want to kiss.
A stalk having is single petal,
Still called a flower.
A hand without a finger
Is still a hand.