On seeing it I was reminded of a ditty I wrote about an
earlier version of the wingèd thing – probably an ancestor – back in the early
days of this blog (in July 2010 to be precise.) Now, I know that it’s little short
of a cardinal sin to reprise earlier posts, but different people were reading
then (many of them commented at the time; one American high school student even
called it a poem, which concerned me a little because if it’s a poem I must be
a poet and I don’t think I want to be.) But I do like the ditty, so here it is:
I have a little
house fly
Who follows me
around
He really doesn’t
pester me
And never makes a
sound
Except for buzzing
wings, that is,
We take that one
as read
Apart from that I
only hear
His thoughts
inside my head
‘I’m such a lucky
house fly’
He says, ‘this
pad’s a find.
I’m sitting here
on Jeffrey’s wall
And Jeffrey
doesn’t mind’
‘Of course I
don’t,’ I tell him back,
‘We’re just two
kindred souls
We’ve got our
different roads to walk
And slightly
different goals
But otherwise we’re
just the same
Mere fragments
manifest
As flesh and blood
and earthly needs
That put us to the
test
So ‘welcome’
little house fly,
Do come in from
the cold
And stay as long
as you desire
Or ’til we both
grow old
It’s surprising how many posts I made about house flies back
in the early days. I was rather more prolific then, and most of the posts were
a lot better than the ones I write now.
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