TumbleDweeeb

The Little Man Who Rode a Pig

By: Emmitt Owens

There once was a man no bigger than dew,

who clung to a pig — what else could he do?

A pig round and rosy, with confident grins,

who dragged him through life by the fold of her skin.

She loved the attention — the stares and the cheers,

while he shrank like a whisper lost under their jeers.

Her hoofprints spelled ego in curly-cue trails,

his doubts tucked between every flick of her tail.

His walnut-shell home was too tiny to share,

yet Pig never visited — she just wasn’t aware.

He slept on a petal, he dined on a seed,

while she rooted for apples — and took more than she’d need.

“Someday,” he murmured, “you’ll see who I am.”

Pig snorted through laughter, “Sure — tiny grand slam.”

They rambled through clover where sunbeams might kiss,

but he never felt noticed… not truly like this.

He’d whisper his dreams into strands of her hair —

she’d shake them off, barely knowing they were there.

When folks pointed fingers, he forced a small grin:

“She’s my best friend!” (though … she rarely chimed in).

Pig soaked in applause like a sponge soaks a spill,

while he stood behind her — invisible still.

At dusk, watching others find partners who matched,

he knew he and Pig weren’t quite puzzle-piece patched.

“Pig… don’t you care what I want?” he’d say.

Pig paused — a rare moment she didn’t look away.

“I do,” she replied, though her voice held a doubt.

“You’re small — what if one day you don’t need me out?”

He blinked, stunned to learn she was scared of the truth:

that friendship can fracture from pride — or from youth.

They stared at the stars — two sizes apart —

Pig far too big, and the man far too heart.

But together they tried, though the fit wasn’t neat…

tiny steps matched to thundering feet.

So if you should see them — a pig and a speck —

don’t judge what’s uneven or perfect-incorrect.

Some friendships aren’t balanced — that’s simply how bonds grow:

two souls learning slowly

what the other should know. 🐷✨