Of all of Nature’s wonders witness this:
A beauty born and swathed in silk cocoon;
Who, from her slumber, will awaken soon–
A miracle! Of metamorphosis.
From flow’r to flow’r she flutters, flits, and flirts,
Eluding all her captors near and far;
The myst’ries of her maidenhead, they are
Concealed beneath her black and orange skirts.
Should I dare snare her with my cov’tous net,
Would I be captured by my own regret.
Enslaved by all I see outside of me–
My cov’tousness the lock, and this the key:
In getting what one wants, true joy is not,
But rather this: in wanting what one’s got.

Copyright © 2008 ProCity Publishing (ASCAP)