Reaching the Top

Two little red ants,
With puffs and with pants,
Were climbing a stone,
But one ant was prone,
To vertiginous spells,
In his ears he heard bells,
Which would suddenly ring,
With a loud ting-a-ling.

It made his legs shake,
And his whole body quake,
What was to be done,
He so wanted to run,
To get far, far away,
But his friend said, 'No, stay',
Just take a breath, deep,
You don't have to weep.

But climb onto my back,
For I've got the knack, .
Of reaching the top,
And I won't let you drop,
We'll get there, don't fret,
For it's a sure bet,
That a friend has to aid
A friend who's afraid.

So with piggy-back style,
Plus the glimpse of a smile,
And without more delay,
Two ants scuttled away.

poem by Ernestine Northover
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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