I woke up like an emerald spark,
Ready to leave behind the dark.
With crimson dots and a spirit free,
I was as happy as I could be.
I didn't ask to be grand or tall,
I liked being delicate, light, and small.
I danced along the garden wall,
Feeling no need to compete at all.
But then a shadow, thick and brown,
Brought my happy soaring down.
A "Big Bug" came with a biting word,
The meanest thing I’d ever heard.
"You’re far too small," the Big Bug cried,
"With nothing much to show inside.
We only watch the wide and vast,
The tiny things are never asked."
He nipped my wing and flew away,
But the sting stayed with me all the day.
I tried to rise, I tried to cheer,
But my lovely flight had disappeared.
Now I hop from leaf to leaf,
Hiding a very quiet grief.
Though the sun is out and the sky is blue,
My wing is hurt, and my heart is, too.
It only takes one heavy thing,
To steal the lift from a tiny wing.
