The Little Ant

 One day a little ant decided to roam,

Fare far and wide, away from his home,

He ate some breakfast and took his elders’ consent,

Obtained their blessings and in his heart’s direction he went.

 

Up and down a fern frond, circling around a stone,

Through a gloomy swamp, that chilled him to the bone,

Up across the mountain range, fifty five inches high,

Through the forest of wild grass, that kissed the sky.

 

Crossing the broken bridge that bent with the moss,

He reached the scorching desert that spanned a thousand feet across,

His little legs were wobbly, his strength almost entirely spent,

His resolve broken, he turned around and homeward he went.

 

Backtracking through the arid desert, that had no track to tread,

Wishing he was home again, tucked in his bed,

Backing away now from the desert, a thousand feet across,

Back across the broken bridge that was bent over with moss.

 

Through the fearful forest of grass that shut out the sky,

Trekking again the mountain range, fifty five inches high,

Back through the gloomy swamp where he was scared to be alone,

Up and down the frond again after circling the stone.

 

A dreary ant, a weary ant, resolved once again to roam,

To build his strength, to walk again, as he staggered back home.

 

Our little ant, who came back home, mid-adventure as he were,

Scared and beaten after a really unsettling  venture,

Sat by himself, thinking about one thing, night and day,

Why did he give up so soon, his mind could not say.

 

Resolute, our friend decided again to pursue,

Victory over the path that left him beaten and blue,

So he mustered his strength and reined in his wit,

Donned his walking cap and his teeth he grit.

 

Again he walked over the frond,

Around the stone, evading the swampy pond,

Hiked over the mountain and through the forest of grass,

Across the broken bridge and along the desert pass.

 

He marched on till he reached that point where,

He couldn’t walk past, the last time he was there,

With renewed strength our champ had now come,

Taking a deep breath, walking courage he did become.

 

He kept marching, in seek of the promised land,

The wind in his wake clearing his tracks in the sand,

Powering on, he finally reached a quarry,

He now knew, it was pointless to worry.

 

There lay a chest, in the middle of all the stone,

Glowing from within, like a star it shone,

He opened it to retrieve a map, revealing a clue,

It held the ancient secret to happiness true.

 

He walked on its path, to reach the land of all our dreams,

He understood that he must keep walking to reach the moonbeams,

The map taught him that the walk is more beautiful than the end,

It’s the walk we always remember, every curve and bend!!