Sitting by a window in class with a wondrous mind,
Counting the panes of glass, hopelessly trying to find
A sign of life on the sill, or maybe behind.
So there comes a little ant as black as soot
Trumping about with sticks for feet, without a hoot
Probably searching for a bag of loot
All I see are lifeless species here.
This ant must be terribly gripped with fear.
For the souls of his mates have been transported somewhere.
Should I or should I not end this ant’s life?
I think as I stare with strife.
So I assume he has children and a wife.
I finally let the ant go free.
It ran as fast as fast could be,
Into a spider’s territory
The spider bit the ant so bad,
It broke my heart and made me sad
As I witnessed the death of another ant’s dad.
I was glad for one good reason though.
That I wasn’t the one who released his soul,
And plunged it into the great dark hole.
(Ants don’t get married, mind you. I don’t think they have children. They have a queen; she gives birth to all ants.)
(23 September 2013)