A Budtime Story

[m_shcheglova]

There was a small little bud
Which grew in the dirtiest mud.
Having no friend,
It was sad to no end,
This poor little bud in the mud.

It saw a buzzy old bee
And asked him: “Hello - can you be
A friend of mine?
Is it fine?
If you like, I can buzz like a bee”.

The bee said, all solemn, “But what is?..
The confusion makes my eyes water:
Work together - is clear,
Idle chat - don't come near;
But friendship? Now, that's muddy waters”.

Then a butterfly came in vicinity,
Flittering, sparkling infinitely.
“Glorious fate!
Can I be your mate
To the very end of infinity?”.

The butterfly said with a glower
Her words of a cold rainbow shower:
“Nip that in the bud,
You sly piece of mud!
For I only make friends with the flowers”.

Then the bud saw a teetering dung fly
Tarted up tantalizingly brightly.
“The being in yellow!
Will you be my fellow?”,
The bud said, though not very brightly.

But even the fly was too la-di-da:
“Can't you see? (so she said) I'm a fab cover-star!
Don't be upset,
But you are a tat.
You can't be my fellow, ta-ta!”.

And so the unfortunate bud
Lay alone, all alone in the mud.
“Am I so bad?
I'm probably mad -
Who wants to be friends with the mud!”.

But it suddenly heard, “Goodness grace!
What a magnificent place!”.
The loneliness spoiled
By a voice from the soil -
What a mysterious case!

But the voice from below was quite warm:
“Oh - 'ullo - I'm your neighbour, the Worm.
I'm not too muddy?
Hi there, buddy!”.
And the buddy felt very warm.

“How strange! Who could think of such power!
I shine from inside and I love it!
I was in a muddle -
It went through a buddle;
Dear me! I unfold like a flower!..”.

Now this is the end of the tale;
The flower was happy though frail;
The worm was its friend,
It is said, to the end;
And, I say! What a wonderful tale!

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