Dewdrops drip from her wings,
and sunlight dances on the rouge of her skin.
But all she remember is the creature
with spots and blotches,
whose slimy legs once squirmed along a branch,
embarrassed by how her appearance
is unsmooth in contrast
to other creatures she has observed.
She hides away in a cocoon,
and in that cocoon,
in that place
where she felt forced
to sit with herself,
she learned to love herself
and found the confidence
to unveil wings.
And now
she dances
among the roses,
free to flit and fly and go.
They call her beautiful
and charming,
but what she knows
is that she was filled
with beauty even before
she was fully transformed
into who she has become.