Metamorphosis.

It is again the time to change,

to fly and leave this humble plane.

This lumpy body’s soft comfort

shall be exchanged for winged fame.

Attached below a branch’s shade,

the merry fellow curls halfway.

His head and limbs are useless now

and his old skin he does betray.

Once free of skin, he winds up tight,

he holds in close his inmost thoughts.

A shell around him slowly forms

that will bestow some polka dots.

And so he waits, and waits, and waits.

A pair of wings instead of feet!

But soon he finds, within that shell,

his metamorphosis complete.

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