"Labels and Tags"

A Poem. It doesn't rhyme and that's how I like it. Love, Me.

"Labels and Tags"

These monarchs in my midriff, they are
eagerly anticipating your arrival,
maybe reminding me of my fear that tends to crop up
this time of year.

So I am labeled a worrier, not a warrior
and tagged as a sensitive young girl.
Perhaps the Luna moth’s green left me envious, jealous
of lime-colored wings.

Heavy mist settled the morning’s valley
allowing peak autumnal rich hues
to pique my interest, needle my thoughts and remind me
of fall’s lesson taught.

I placed October in the box labeled ‘moody’
and there it has stayed. Quite true to form,
you’ve made yourself a comfortable corner in the far back,
outlined with strict borders.

Somehow I trapped my gossamer wings in
an awkwardly folded fashion while peering in to see autumn.
I struggled and stretched but the tall frost-covered grass permitted
neither flight nor fall.

My hopes have lain with the gypsy’s life
but though my heart wandered, it always returned.
My captive view into darkened box cocoon saddened me greatly,
barely hearing your tune.

Our migration together aloft the wind currents
and gyres, alight on milkweed to feed and flutter
and flit on to warmer climes, suffer hardships to
free our delicate lives.

And now you join October quite without warning.
The harshness of my wanderings, my flights did
nothing to reassure you of my warrior wishes, so my swallowtail tag
still sadly spells ‘worrier.’