The Fly

A poem about a fly

Buzzing around Flying up and down The fly is busy Flying on my hand.

Its wings Flap As it flies Towards my head I flinch And itch As it sits For a bit.

In annoyance I whack it With my book And it falls To the floor Skittering away.

The fly Is sly It slithers Hiding Beneath my chair.

It whimpers With a buzz And it leaps Up above Alive And crazy Wobbling And trying To get away.

I watch it closely Its back is black Its beady eyes Stare blindly As it flares And moves Past me.

The fly Sits on the open window It's slow Hampered body Is wounded As it tries To escape.

I turn for a second And turn back But the fly Has gone Flown away Out into the sunny air Escaping into the warmth Reaching the blue sky Freer than before.

©️ Denise Larkin 2020. All Rights Reserved.

If you enjoyed this poem then you might enjoy the following ones:

Want to become a writer for Medium become a member and earn from your writing. Join here:

Check out The Lark Publication website below: