by Tammy Tillotson

You may think of me as an itty bitty little thing,
That turns bright crimson in color if you tickle my wing.
Yet I have a tale to tell, under these blushing cheeks
So please lend me your ear as this ladybug speaks.

The life of a ladybug is by far not stress free,
And stuck in a jar is not where I desire to be!
Even though air holes may be poked in the top
A jar’s not a home, and indeed that must stop!

I’ve had too many close calls and narrow escapes
Yet I try to be brave and crawl away without scrapes.
As Nature would have it, and quite luckily for me
I can squeeze out of tight places and fly away free.

At times I feel frustrated with the hurts that I face
Yet there are sure to be dark spots in any bright place.
My dark spots may be tiny yet if you look carefully
I’ve turned my back on those specks, and am still red as can be!

Now don’t get me wrong, those spots are worn with great pride
As their lessons have been hard ones, but all taken in stride.
Beauty marks on the surface sometimes reach underneath
Yet how many can say they carry their own special wreath?

I may never be big, and am content being small
And light up the night sky, I cannot do at all
Yet, every once in awhile, when you need a small friend
I may land on your shoulder, with my bright blushing grin.

Before you thump me away without thought,
Perhaps you’ll remember a lesson I’ve taught.
For a moment, glance down, and ignore shape and size,
And know that the true lady is always hidden inside.

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