Time sheds its cocoon,

wrinkling and softening my skin.

 

It took me a season's time,

 I'm now ripe 

and ready to go off

on my own.

 

I'm frightened of being taken away from the roots where I grew.

 

Though I know I can't hesitate;

the branch

that once cradled me

 can't bear my weight. 

 

I'm picked from my stem

and taken 

into the tender hands

 of a farmer.

 

This change wasn't my end,

but the start of becoming anew.