Metamorphosis

By: Gwen Flowers

I watched a butterfly dry his wings
On a sun warmed blade of grass.
A dry cocoon fell to the ground.
The need for it was past.
Not long ago a squirmy worm
Had wriggled up this way,
But now this flying flower
Had brightened up my day.
The caterpillar wasn't gone,
But changed, so he could fly.
He left his former way of life
Without a tear or sigh.
I wonder if the caterpillars
That he left behind
Wonder what became of him
Or knew what he would find?
Did they try to hold on to him?
Do they miss him? Do they mourn?
Do they know he isn't gone,
But that he has been reborn?
It can be hard to say good-bye.
It can hurt to let go.
But, sometimes, that's the only way
Those lovely wings can grow.