Little butterfly landed on the book that she used to read and brought her sweet dreams Her bright sunny smile Lights up my mind and it stays for a while Til I start to cry Sometimes I hear the sound of the brook echo her laugh and I think she's back "Shelly stay" Her soft, tiny hands once made of flesh now of spectral cobwebs brush through my hair Sometimes at night I lay awake Hearing her voice. "Dad can we play?" Shelly says I know she's crossed over now The butterflies bring her soul Sometimes I wake and go to the place where she'd swing and she'd run beneath the sun Shelly plays. Shelly plays.
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