Ode to a Fly


As I was walking down the street,
I spied a fly beneath my feet.
I asked him as one sometimes does,
just who he really thought he was.
Not receiving a reply, I thought- -
he's just a Common Fly,
who left his wife and children ten;
he just could not provide for them.
And so he turned to suicide...
and closed his compound eyes
and died.

Poem Rating:
Click To Rate This Poem!

Continue Rating Poems


Share This Poem