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Butterfly  Valley

There’s a secret place I go,
I call Butterfly valley.
I'd like to take you along,
but you see...
I have to go alone.

The sun always shines there,
except on Sunday afternoons,
when it rain and all the crystal
clear water runs into this lush
tropical lagoon. Where large
gold fish swim until the
rising of the silvery moon.

Butterflies, large and small, on
fluttering wings of dark blue,
bright yellow glow, snow white
with velvet brown spots and others
with all the colors of the rainbow.

There are tropical flowers of all sorts,
velvet pink roses, white spotted,
trumpet shaped lillys and enamored
with large spotted orchids and tiny
long steammed posies.

In the distance I can faintly hear a melody
from a pan flute softy playing; "Hey

The crystal clear waters of the lagoon,
reflecting memories of the good times
from my past. A place in time that I
thought would never pass.

O’ how, I hate to leave this place of
pure contentment. This beautiful lush
paradise with no hatred, no wars, no
arguments, no city noise, no crime or
regrets of lost time.  

No one else will ever find
Butterfly Valley, you see...
for it’s hidden deep in a
secret corner of my mind.

I most go now,
for reality is
calling me...

Yeh! Yeh! I heard you!
Just a damn minute!

Jackie R. Kays


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