[Poem] The Fly

As I sat at home one day, I heard a faint and buzzing sound, which suddenly grew louder,
And then I saw the winged marauder, flitting round and round!

He must have seen me also, then, because he flew right past my face,
Once and twice and thrice again, he darted in, then buzzed off to some other place.

I peeled both eyes and sighted him, and tracked him to his resting spot,
On the curtain, white and clean, a small black dot, plainly seen.

I tip-toed out and then back in, and held my swatting stick,
"Ha, ha, ha, he's done for now, I'll sneak up close and do it quick!"

I saw him on the curtain pleat, and moved in for the easy prey,
"Enjoy it while you can, you horrid little creature, for this is your last day!"

But just as I prepared to bring down judgements' swatting stick,
A queasiness came over me, and I felt a little sick.

And suddenly I didn't want to end the little bugger's life,
"It's not as though we're enemies or perpetually in strife."

And so I opened all my doors, and used the stick to shoo him out,
And he flew away, safe, unharmed, another day to buzz and fly about.

I felt much better, then, as I sat at home that day,
My conscience clear of any guilt, I really felt ok.

But as I lay back to relax, I heard a faint and buzzing sound...!