IOTA, IOTA, A TINY IOTA . . .

a poem by Krzeslawa T. Skrzypczynska, Poland - poetry writer, author, poet

iota, iota, a tiny iota . . .
A ladybird lived.
She used to fly merry,
she was not afraid of people
but the little boy walked up to her
and he snapped her nose,
a poor ladybird
won't behold the sunflower,
won't dance at all,
this little vandal interrupted this life.

Such a moral here
from the picture it follows
that life is gold,
cause when it glitters - disappears.

The second moral is, then
that when you shine with wealth,
you make blind others yourself.
The moth flies to the candle.

and the third, finally,
thrown away very simply:
when you have a lot - do not lure,
do live a bit strategically

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