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Butterflies delicate,
butterflies blue,
butterflies still
remind me of you.

We are here for a while,
then we are gone,
but not forgotten,
for we will be changed
into something more beautiful.

Like the butterfly,
we do not really die,
but shed only
our outer shell.

We then become
even more radiant,
when in our glory,
with Him we shall dwell.

So my child do not grieve,
when I say goodbye,
for to the child of God,
death has no sting.

For we are transformed
into new creatures,
in garments of white.
While singing His praises,
we are filled with His Light.

~© Melba T.~

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