A little bug crawled on the ground,

Pulling himself with ease.

He stopped for a moment to look up,

And he felt the summer breeze.

 

He slowly moved through the grass,                          

And climbed over smelly things.

He refused to stay on the ground.

He wanted a pair of wings.

 

His friends became concerned

That he was out of his mind,

And needed to accept what was,

Or he’d be left behind.

 

But the bug wanted to fly

In a sky filled with blue.

He knew if he tried hard,

It was something he could do.

 

So he struggled with all his heart,

To attach some wings to his back.

After a while it was clear,

He needed to back-track.

 

So he climbed a tall tree,

And attached to a twig.                                  

He slept for a while,

As his cocoon grew big.

 

Later, He found himself,

Struggling to get free,

Of a cocoon surrounding him,

That hung in the tall tree.

 

He tugged and he pulled,

As he slipped out,

Into the bight sunlight,

A butterfly….no doubt.

 

He drifted down to a rock,

To dry his wings in the wind.

He was happy he took a risk.

He was more than he had been.

 

All it took was faith in himself,

And patience for a while,

For a bug to be able to fly,

Through the air with great style.

Yu/stan/kema.