Forget new leaf,
I’m constantly turning over a whole new forest.
In fact, being inconsistent
just may be the only thing
I’m consistent in.
I seem to lack the ability to solidify,
I’m just a liquid creation
filling the formation
of any mold I am poured into. Some may call me
fickle, the girl who doubles as a shape shifter.
I just call it rolling with the never-ending punches of life,
It’s a talent, you know, learning to make sweet lemonade
out of that mountain of lemons.
And like a shadow that shrinks and stretches with the sun,
Like the sun that rises and falls,
Like the fall that arrives in a slight chill before making way for winter,
I too am moving and morphing, keeping up with the changes around me.