Transformation (The Butterfly)

Steps, weary and old
Stories to be told, the times shall soon unfold
stairs, so desolate, so many stories untold
Fly beyond the mountain,
over the valley, beneath the sun,
many have chosen,
to travel far and young.

The memories behold, as thy truth unfold
the years go by, many were brisk and cold.
Times have changed, yet so have I,
They watch as she flies away,
She is I.
I am a butterfly.