Butterfly Effect

She holds it in her hands, examines it slowly.

Brown, dried out, brittle.

Unexpected, no words attached.

Once, there was a sentiment. Once.

Brown paper, brown box, broken shards of hope.

She cries because she knows.

Because she knows that it’s always going to be this way.

Right now, it’s a stick.

Right now, it’s just a stick with a small, beige cocoon.

In the future, maybe it will become beautiful.

Maybe a stunning Tiger Swallowtail will emerge.

Vivid colors and stammered flight.

But now, right now,

It’s just an otherwise empty box.

Right now,

It’s just a stick.