deserted cocoon

he was the crusty cocoon covering the caterpillar

boneless, yet filled with vibrant life, and belittling
the very source of her security, and the sacrifices
the casing made to transform frailty and un-beauty

later to lighter flight, much fluttering with splendour

of myriad colours as of acrylic paint and clear-coat
for weathering both the hot sun and the wet rain
before seizing the right moment to flirt with another

and never return to the cocoon, the first house

that remains deserted, forever a broken heart, blood
now dried, able to give no more life, mere useless
clothing, like the shed skin of a snake now escaped   

henry victor     25.06.2013

* This poem is dedicated to Fari Lotsali of Eagle Nation Buffet in Pitt Meadows, BC