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My butterfly

I met her when I was 10, my hands fell in hers

like the petals falling in the goddess’s feet to show her, my fondness.

She looked at me with expressions that made me careless,

“where am I”- I inquired,

my blushing cheeks knew my sky existed above her land.

She knew back then, the efforts weren’t one-sided,

she was in love too, admiring her hairband,

I was a butterfly cherishing blossom elegance.

-Riya Shah

By Ray

POET| CONTENT WRITER| BLOGGER

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