Poem: There Was A Lizard in The House

There Was A Lizard in The House

A small one, smaller than my pinky
finger, running about, hiding
from our giant forms, though
I am sure it would prefer
to be returned to outdoors
that the sun might warm it,
it is too cold here inside the house,
is not warm as the world outside,
but it runs from us, runs beneath chairs
or behind a bookshelf, is more scared
to let us near than of this place,
may not even know enough
to tell the danger it is in,
that we are only trying
to get it back to the world
that it knows, the one outside,
not this artificial place
suited so well to our needs,
and not at all for so many others.

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