The Magnifying Glass

When we were kids you always carried around that magnifying glass that illuminated all the vibrancy of youth. We wanted to see it all, bigger, closer and better. Especially the other world of tiny people with more than four legs and as many eyes to match. Their little cities in the undergrowth where they marched in and out with all the order of a concrete metropolis, barely noticed by those fully grown. It is the job of children you see, to bear witness to that which adults can no longer.

Although we saw glistening bugs no bigger than a comma, we never saw the red beast growing nearer. It crept slowly, but pounced suddenly and before we knew it your magnifying glass was gone. We could no longer see the specs of life strutting through the leaves, so we stopped looking. Then one day, one came to you and I watched you swat it away. You said it was a nuisance.