I placed a flower on your grave
Something so ordinary
I hope you not object
To this mundane gesture
Your aura still permeates
In clandestine corners
And butterflies appear
Whenever you are near
My mother always cries
When a butterfly hovers close
Because she knows it is you
I hope you not object
To our mundane sentiments
We miss you so
Yet, you never left
I feel your whispers
In clandestine corners
We miss you so
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