The cocoon stands for all things;
Even for those who have not yet shed their shell.
For everything emerges,
And then spreads its wings,
Surprising the world with their magnificence
And beauty.
I, myself, have told the last bud on the tree
That the latest bloomer is the most beautiful;
Like the last note in the opera-
It cannot die
As it is forever imprisoned in our minds,
Like the top jewel on the crown,
Or the best lick of frosting on a cake.
Childhood should be cherished,
From sitting, reading on the sunlit porch in the afternoon
To rampaging wildly about a lawn in a spontaneous
Summer vacation water fight.
Those days fly too fast,
Both for the mothers and the children.
For the children shed their silken innocence,
Leaving their parents crying over the glossy sheen,
Reminiscing over days when their child was still a child.
But if there was no adulthood,
There could be no “early years”
No ways in which to mature or grow.
From finding the first job,
To the lovely first boyfriend,
To the fun college adventure,
To the beautiful wedding,
And the first small child,
Where the process starts over again,
Re-cultivating the innocence,
Love,
And growth…
All invested in a single caterpillar that must emerge,
And a blossom that must bloom.