A Butterfly
Weather
grasped winter
While it
was on its downfall
And why
shouldn’t it be?
After all,
it is a butterfly hiding with
Cryptic
colors from predators to
Wings for
weather surprises
Yet it has
to fall for coming summer
Has to
receive new off-springs
It
remembers those days when it
Used to be
a larva and pupa
It looked
at my mom and smiled
Said ‘good
luck with your off springs’
And here
we are, raised by her
Woman, she
borns as larva knowing
That she
has born for herself
Soon she
is being revealed to the fact
She is a
butterfly and her path is never easy
Making the
colorful days of most what she can
She
vanishes into another baby girl.
Love my
mother, Love women. Quite a creation.
