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There’s a fly in my kitchen

buzzing around; how did he get in?

so annoying, why choose me to pester?

I chase him with a wet rag, upsetting crockery.


I think I’ve got him, no I haven’t

as he sails past, lands on a jam jar,

on a doorknob, on my arm!

can’t you keep  still for a minute, fly?


I wonder what he wants, what is he thinking,

do flies think or do they just buzz?


There was an old song from my youth

how did it go?  I’m a lonely little petunia

in an onion patch and all I do is cry all day.


I open the kitchen door and he buzzes out

into the sunlight, into freedom!


So flies like old  songs too
I’ll have to remember that.

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© Johnmichael Simon



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