Woodland Glade

A beautiful butterfly
Flutters by
And a gentle breeze
Russles the leaves
Of fine old trees.

Where shadows dance
Couples may see,
By some lucky chance,
The otter wild and free
That dreams
In woodland streams.

Standing on the street
With dusty feet,
They gazed
Amazed
At the museum of yesteryear,
While far and near
Stretched the asphalt drear.

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