Somehow, I had shrunk in size,
to where I was smaller than a fly.
My house was now a blade of grass,
until I had found myself a lily pad.
And across the riverbed I hopped,
to make my way home—but then I’d stopped.
I knew that something wasn’t right;
I could no longer see—there was no light.
And it was at that moment I realized:
I’d shrunk to an even smaller size.
I panicked, not sure what was going on,
but I knew that soon I’d be completely gone.
Unless there was something else I could do—
maybe, perhaps, if I found my way back to you.
Though I was lost and rather confused,
and upon a lily pad, I saw the water was blue.
For the first time, I looked all around me.
It was the first time I could actually see—
no longer distracted by where I was going,
but instead by where the water was flowing.