On a yawning Sunday afternoon,
a ladybug shuffled across my field of view.
A faithless pilgrim setting out upon the spackled-plaster
winter wastes of my bedroom ceiling.
I watched her, inching along, as I rested within a feathery shell
folded from my down comforter.
Surely someone has already written this poem down,
for here is the perfect place to reflect upon the size, scope, and perspective of life,
the power of love, and the nature of existence itself.
Not to mention identity, pronouns, and the brevity of living.
The color fading from her shell betrays the truth in this November sun,
but I instead turn my thoughts to the poem that I was certain she had been writing
about me.
Here she sees yet another pitiful giant burrowed so deeply in his feathered nest,
sleeping away the embarrassment of riches granted him by Father Time.
She pauses for a moment, taking it all in, then shrugs and sighs.
Her focus never leaving those lazy thought-filled eyes — they watch her in genuine malaise as she lives her best life, one spite-filled centimeter at a time.
by D. Ryan Lafferty
Literary Crumbs: Poems & Short Stories to Savor by D. Ryan Lafferty 
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