Change.
It always mesmerized her.
The way the sky changed.
The way the flowers changed.
The way every year since she was a little girl, the mailman would always change.

And last, the way people would change.
But that, she hated.
She hated how her friends changed.
She hated how her parents changed.
And worst of all, she hated how she changed.

In a life where her emotions would hide,
Change began to manifest, mirroring an unforgiving tide.
Soon, within her, began something anew.
As the seasons danced on, she saw a storm of unfortunate news.
A storm encompassing all the shifting things surrounding her.
Why oh why couldn’t she just stay in her first grade classroom?
The mailman’s face, which was once familiar and warm,
Became like a stranger’s gaze, like a subtle alarm.

The people around her began to transform,
Like ice beginning to form on the river at the very arrival of fall,
Like a crisis of identity, a daunting call.
Yet through the chaos, she found her might,
And, embracing the change, she faced the dark night.

However,
One thing remained absolute:
In this conduit of life, crisis helped her growth.
Like a certain self evolution, a testament of her worth.