Poems From My Allpoetry Account

Children Are Butterflies

Monarch butterflies cascade off the trees like autumn leaves,
flowing distant from branches of their ancestry.
Like children leaving the safety of home,
going through adolescence, learning to fend on their own
they grow wings and learn to fly,
no longer dependent on the breeze parents provide.

Leaves hue darker than their previous green,
withered by bitter cold, crackling without the warmth of spring.
Dimming the sun with stratus clouds
leaving leaves fragile with no light around. 
There's impeccable beauty in thin autumn leaves, 
just as there's beauty in broken people we see. 

Comparable to butterflies leaving a tree like autumn leaves
children do the same just differently.
Some do it early in their teens,
escaping broken homes that have made them empty,
while others go later in time,
unable to say goodbye without dew flowing from their eye.

Like autumn withered leaves we are beautifully broken too, 
metamorphosing into butterflies escaping our cocoon. 
Spreading our wings for the cold air ahead. 
Knowing we're prepared from the home we were raised in.