
Melissa’s Fandango Flash Fiction Challenge #248
Miles was crawling
on each brittle stem
trying to reach
what looked like to him
a huge healthy egg
with babies inside
He knew he could save them
they’d have no place to hide
So he stood on guard
for many long days
but died on the branch
Outstaying his stays
without any water
or any small bite
for many long hours
and one real long night
He didn’t see it coming
He did not feel pain
But Miles was dead
he did not die in vain
©2023 CBialczak

Oh no! Poor Miles… but a cute poem!
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Sweet poem Christine.
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So sad — in a beautiful way. Poetry is like that sometimes.
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That is how mothers and fathers care for their kids to the extend of sacrificing their lives. This i beautiful dear @Stine
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Poor Miles! He is an ornament now.🎄
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