LADYBUG
She came out of nowhere, a brief flash of colour that eventually touched down on the fabric of my dull grey shirt. I glanced downward as the flicker of red passed through my periphery, and there she was, a small red dome speckled in black.
I couldn't help but smile.
There was something innocent about ladybugs; something that managed to bring flashes back to the days of my youth. It was just a bug, but it was the prettiest of bugs, which made a difference.
There was something innocuous and refreshing about a ladybug. I had always liked bumblebees, but a wayward hand with the awkward yellow-black drifters could result in a sting. Besides, the noble bumblebee was an industrious creature, always bobbing along with work on the mind. It was a little too close to home for me these days.
No, the ladybug was where the real appeal lay. She was a creature of easy virtue, a lady of leisure. She loved to travel, was a frequent flyer in fact, but her destination remained consistently irrelevant.
I imagine she is influenced by her mood.
Sometimes, she is looking for a little aromatherapy. On those days she touches down in a bed of flowers and fills her senses with the colours and scents, only leaving once she feels rejuvenated.
Sometimes, she is looking for a little rest on relaxation. On those days she would drift over to a blade of fresh green black and creep out towards its tip where the gentle rocking stir of a breeze would lull her off to sleep.
And sometimes, on days like today, she is seeking companionship from a man. There is obviously very little I can do for her but remain an accommodating host. She will tire of me eventually, and when she does, she will soar off into the clear blue skies once more, in search of her next great fancy.
There is a simplicity to her routine, an easy interpretation to her every action. That it could only be the same for all the ladies of the world.
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