They feast upon things I will not mention
To make me ill is their one intention.
They tickle my nose while I'm sleeping
Across my plate I find them creeping.
Unwanted guests at picnic and parties
Just try to catch those elusive smarties.
Every time I spot a squatting fly
I grab a paper and swatting try.
Just a flick of the wrist with motion so swift
There'll be one dead fly when my weapon I lift.
To no one's surprise the fly has long flown
Another execution that I've blown.
Of all God's creatures in earth and sky
I often wonder why He made the fly.
posted by ken wilkins @ 5:18 PM
1 Comments:
this is beautiful!
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