A pipe-cleaner with a holly berry
Stitched on for a head: small, crawling, hairy;
They call him a caterpillar. I fear
He might burst in flames like a winged fairy
Should I dare touch him, but thinking him queer
Still stand guard beside this brave pioneer
That he may not be crushed by heedless toes
Though others think me mad to volunteer
To follow his tiny steps with my own,
But how could I leave my dear friend alone?
If one cruel day I am dragged on my nose
I hope his plea just might help to atone
For some wrong I had done in life and so
With tiny steps we might to Heaven go.

This entry was posted in Sonnets.

2 comments on “Steps

  1. Anton says:

    Mmm, yes, I love that :) I had the same thoughts when I tried to be nice to insects. You never know what deed makes the difference.

    Have you heard the nasheed called “Small Deeds” by Native Deen?

  2. darvish says:

    A sweet and very true poem, dear Brother :) We indeed never know what small deed may make the difference, and yet, when called by our heart to do a kindness great or small, let the best of us prevail and do them all.

    Ya Haqq!

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