I once had a little friend, I called him Oscar Bug,
He was very small indeed, too small for me to hug,
He couldn't talk or play, and I'd never take him fishin',
But I could always count on him, I knew he'd always listen.
He perched himself contently, atop my bedside window,
And he'd listen to me for hours, as I lay there on my pillow,
He never interrupted or smirked if I would cry,
If you wonder why I'm friends with bugs, he's the reason why.
He loved to run amok, along my windowsill,
Until one sad, sad day, he sat there cold and still,
I still talk to him sometimes, when I'm feeling blue,
When no one else will listen, a dead bug will have to do.
If you enjoyed this poem, you can check out The Story Behind Oscar Bug in My Life's Junk Drawer. There's also an extended version I created for a potential children's picture book there too.