She closed the shutters to his wanting eyes and alchemized from a cocoon to a butterfly beneath a circle of friends in tune.  She removed the photos, gifts, and letters and put them in a box to reminisce later. Talking out loud, “She takes just like a woman,” but she will not break like a little girl. “No more hours fanning the past; on this day, my view spans.”  She sat peacefully by the fire into the night and let her broken wing sing as she watched the wood turn to gold.