Soft phantom yellow, smoothly curved
A wing, frail, silent, still
A butterfly in motion, time forgot
Tomorrow is our yesterday
Flying, sing in whispers
Murmur of tomorrow in the sky
Silken wings beat softly
Tufts of air are churned in time
Until tomorrow steals the sceptre
As a bluish motion squeezes in
To cover yellow paper in a daze
Of dreaming memory, blue is real.

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