A little gray bug crawled on the ground.            

He complained about his lot in life.                  

He said he was tired of being so small,

And said he’d never find a wife.

 

“All of the other bugs by far,”

He said, “Have things I don’t possess.”

I have no special curb appeal.

I know I’m just an awful mess.”

 

“I’m often smashed by other things,

Because I’m small and hard to see.

My color is a dirty gray.

It’s hard for me to climb a tree.”

 

“Such lovely colors others have,                

But I am ugly as can be.

My wings won’t take me very far.

I’m not happy being me.”

 

God watched and listened from afar,

Became fed up with his complaints.

God put a brush in His hand,

And He began to quickly paint.

 

God made the bug a brilliant red                

And gave to him a wondrous shine.

Soon all the birds were flying down,

Intent to grab the bug and dine.

 

“Please make me big,” He cried to God,

“So they can’t carry me away.”

“They’ll find it’s just too hard to fly.

They’ll leave me here to stay.”

 

God made him the size of a little ball,

And then some children came,

Picked up the bug and threw him high.

He never was the same.

 

 

“I’m sorry God that I complained.

I’m better off being who I was.

I’m safer  being small and gray.

I need to accept what God does.”

 

The gray bug learned a lesson that day,

He wouldn’t soon forget:

“Be content with yourself, 

Or live with huge regret.”

Yu/stan/kema.