Butterfly
Mother wants to catch a beautiful butterfly
To put on in my pink dress
And bring me to stroll down the street
My Mother chases and chases
Until a butterfly
Is in caught my mother’s clever hands
But I am always swaying
Frightening the butterfly
So that when she moves, her wing is either too long this way
Or too short that way
If mother has to relax her hands
Butterfly flies away quickly
Mother wants me to be an obedient child
I stand still and move less
Finally, mother catches
A big beautiful butterfly
That becomes a bow tie on my pink dress
And our stroll begins
Such an impressive poem has brought me back to my sweet childhood in my memory many many years ago in Taiwan; thank you so much for posting, dear and respected Sister.
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