BUG

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The other night while having ‘sup’

Corner-eye seen, on table’s edge

A little bug struggled caught up

Twixt rim and glass, balled up in a wedge

 

The flick of a finger gave gentle fling

As he tumbled down to the rug

He gave a flutter of his wing

Lo! The tell tale spots of Ladybug

 

The thought of a child came to me

Could a Ladybug still be a he?

Whether he or she held no sway

Life in the bug was slipping away

 

Wanting with life to interfere not

I left he-she the struggle to live

Found next morning, in the same spot

Bug’s body had given all it could give

 

Gently to rest in Kleenex nest

Tossed into a wastebasket tomb

Reflecting the while to my best

Is Life he or she before the womb?

 

Would bug come back a he or a she?

Is past, present, future the order?

Could it, whirled in time come back as me?

 

No end is death, merely border

How deeply plunged in mystery

Had the tiny life taken me?

He, she, you and every me

Being itself; every possibility!

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