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!