I hear a frantic and distressed buzzing,
A small dot skirring near the window.
The fly had fallen onto its back, its legs running without ground.
I carefully offered the corner of my phone,
And the fly accepted.
As it rested, I reached for the door handle,
but the fly flew up between the bars of the ceiling,
content to stay out of the cold February air.
All Writing.Com images are copyrighted and may not be copied / modified in any way. All other brand names & trademarks are owned by their respective companies.
Generated in 0.10 seconds at 4:35pm on Nov 10, 2024 via server WEBX2.