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Chasing
The coffin is closed
I hope its peaceful for her.
The smiles have turned to frowns,
But the images of her
Running through the fields,
Chasing a butterfly or bunny
Play through our minds
The wreath has wilted now
No one will toss it
Those flowers are like her butterflies
And she wasn’t ready to let them go.
Her smiles faded to grimaces of pain
And the hair slowly faded away
Yet Emmah still wanted to chase the butterflies
You could see it when she sighed.

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