Vanity

The leaves leave their pretty jade, as colors of my eyes fade. When every Spring solemnly descents, My sight gets another shade. For what am I made? Living every day to bloom or daze! And flipping sides to fit new space, I borrow their jade to paint my face! I suck away their lush mellow, They curse me for a million days. I smirk at them, I laugh for days, They stare at me in scornful ways. The leaves cry in rumbling ache But that's how I hide my case; I giggle and wiggle in glooms of garden, While trees of Spring burn in blaze. The jade in me over dreadful yellow, deep inside, I feel guilt bellow. I choose it not over the victory made; the stolen jade was gift of wade!