There upon the ceiling was a fly,
That was buzzing all about
It was there watching me without a doubt,
As though it was a spy.
The fly it has its many eyes,
As it circles about me and the room
Watching me I always did assume,
Is being called an insect and a pest, but a guise.
Around my head the fly did buzz,
As though it is a protestor
Or maybe it is just a jester,
Who know why it did, or why it really does.
On the window I now see it resting,
Is it contemplating leading me to the slaughter
So, I slowly grab my swatter,
I'll end its spying and protesting.
There was a fly upon the wall,
When I once declared that I never did sin
I swore I was innocent to women and men,
But, the fly it seen and heard it all.
Randy L. McClave
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A well inked impressive poem. Simply amazing...10++