A worm moon tonight,
Welcomes the vibrance of spring,
Colors of life and hope,
But me, glued in time,
Staged as reddish brown autumn,
Buried underneath a winter grave.
Barely alive,rotting bit by bit,
Eaten slowly by the earthworms,
molding my former shape to debris,
From the earth that I had once risen,
Is the earth I have now become,
But even in death,
I haven’t lost the dream of green,
Because I know someday,
From my caracas, there would be,
A sprout of spring!!