Metamorphosis

I turned over a new leaf

Then I watched it dry up,

Ready to crumble into a brittle

Palmful of memories.

I wish I would have

Carefully laid it between

Two warm pages

Of a hopeful, promising volume,

To keep it strong and green,

And to, at least, give the appearance

Of life—

And determination.

Now the pain of changes,

From caterpillar to butterfly,

From green leaf to gold

Has been a waste,

Buried in the earth

With the embryo

Of some tender seedling.