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  • Leia

The Flight of the First Ladybug

I was standing on the patio,

That extends beyond the stone walls of my home,

When an unmistakable crimson dot,

Flew down to the white marble pebble floor,

Caught my eye, caught me by surprise.

Like my feet had broken free,

From the shackles of my mind and body,

Call it what you want, muscle memory,

I trod lightly and crouched down,

Laid my pinkie finger in front of its ebony crown,

And like a swimmer, testing the tides of the sea,

It slowly made its way,

Up my fingernail.

As soon as its six legs touched my skin,

I felt the sturdy ground collapse underneath,

And through the lines of space and time,

I was transported to a place,

Hidden in a cardboard box,

Shoved back in the attic of my brain,

Where the days were not bound,

By man-made ways.

For the arrival of the first ladybug,

Marked the start of a sacred time,

Which formed sacred bonds,

Like bonds of blood but with seven tiny black spots,

In the boundaries of a magical place,

Four girls would enter,

When the clock struck five,

Every day, without haste.

Patches covered with soldiers called touch-me-nots,

That would lay their lives down,

For the towering castles of hollyhocks,

Fuchsia carnations bursting like fireworks,

Above an emerald-green city of leaves,

And the bugs painted with rubies,

By the elves and fairies,

Would fly alongside the butterflies and the bees,

Their hum filled the air,

A traditional greeting laced with pollen and care.

If the trees could see,

What would their eyes perceive?

Four girls, bare feet,

Trying to outrun the summer breeze,

As they searched for invisible maps,

That led to buried treasure for them to seek,

A seesaw that would take them to Mars,

Defying the laws of gravity,

The golden string of Fate,

Coiled around their waists,

An unspoken vow was made.

The barks contain every second,

Each ring, good or bad, a memory,

From scrapped knees to broken teeth,

Eyes burned from the sap of an unknown tree,

And when the pain was too much to bear,

Translucent charcoal wings would flutter down,

And the ladybugs would land,

On the palm of their hands,

A sign, telling them that they’ll be alright.

When the last ray of the evening sun,

Drew its final breath,

It’s apricot orange exhale,

Streaked the darkening sky,

As it's final prevail,

Like the inferno of a wax candle,

Dripping away to its demise,

A lilac hue and a speckle of stars,

Indicated that it was time to say goodbye.

And from that secret garden,

They went out the wrought iron gate,

Evergreen, like the ever trees, oxidised with age,

Reluctantly, retreating to their realities,

But the promise of tomorrow,

Wore tight between their teeth.

If the trees could talk,

What would they speak?

Four girls wrapped in fabrics of ignorance and innocence,

Living four different lives, four different dreams,

But this is the garden where they met,

Where they’ll always meet,

Until all the ladybugs in the world,

Rest in a never-ending sleep.


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