She landed so eloquently on my wrist
An early morning in June
A beautiful encounter, her calling me
To attune
A ladybug of larger size
With the deepest scarlet shell
Engaging me to hear her words
So I listened very well
Oh ladybug, ladybird or beetle if you choose
Her presence is a spiritual one
A forbearer of good news
Stories attribute her; a truly lucky token
Magnificent creature, short life span
But her spirit is never broken
Era of innocence, wonder for little things
Ladybug has knowledge, as special as
Her wings
Master of metamorphosis, she truly is so bold
Her brief time, not spent in vain
A story to be told
About the Creator
Marilyn Glover
I am a 2x top Medium writer, editor, and owner of the publication Third Eye Gypsy. Poetry is my first love of writing and spirituality and love are my favorite topics. Follow me on Medium https://gmarilyn009.medium.com/
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There were not always dragons in the Valley. I will see them gone from that place once more. My father wept when I made my pledge, a rare thing. The tears fell from behind his mask like warm, summer rain. His attachment to me was a failing on his part, a stumble upon the Path. Yet I was gladdened to see him weep for me; a failing on mine. Later, upon my journey, I kept the memory of my father’s tears close, and felt a little less alone.
By Madoka Mori3 days ago in Fiction
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