Spring:

A short musing on the physical nature of becoming a woman, and growing old as one.

                                    in bloom

                           like the huge layered leaves

                                    that cover

                                       the once spindly little tree

                            and

                          when 

                           the

                        leaves bloom.....

                                  ......................

                                  ......................

                                         fruit grows.

                                                          And fruit falls.

Author's Note

I discovered this poem that I wrote around the time when I first hit puberty. If I remember correctly, I was contemplating the fact that I would one day lose the body that was then just coming in.
It's a little angst-ridden, but I can appreciate since it is far more sincere than most of what I wrote back then.
Thoughts?