Me is old
and me is cold,
would you please
me wee hand hold?

Me is small
and me is stuck,
pressed to glass
and out of luck.

Me from wet,
but now me dry,
“So let me out!”
me cry and cry.

Me is sad
and me is hurt,
me miss me home
back in the dirt.

Me is lonely,
me is mad.
Me watch the captors,
big and bad.

Me used to like
to hit the drum,
me used to like
to run and run.

Now me sit
and wait all day,
wishing me go
far away.

One night me squeeze out
through the lid.
You thinks me couldn’t—
but me DID!

So in the night,
me creeps and creeps,
away while all me humans sleep.

Me is free
and me is fast,
back to mud
and dew-wet grass!

So here me stay,
and here me be,
within me hole,
beneath me tree.


© Katherine Steffeter