The Bug Man's House, a poem by me, Abby M.
From floor to ceiling, rising Up, are butterflies, bugs, and bees No longer writhing or striving To survive, you see They are pinned in place, not hiding But displayed to see, for you and me. Up the hill, three children roamed And explored that day, To peek into the bug man’s home It was early into the month of may The first window they peaked in, Was the bathroom It was bees and grasshoppers that affronted them from within Thankfully, no one was using the room. The three friends watched, unable to move, as the doorknob began to spin A woman stepped through, She saw them right away For only a moment she withdrew Holding beetles in a display, Her hair was short and of the darkest hue, It was only a moments delay Before up her face, a smile grew. Still terrified of what she would say, they were dismayed When she lunged and threw Open the window and set down the display “And who, may I ask, Are you, peeking...