Terza Rima Sonnet in tetrameter.
With blurred vision in my one eye, on this cold winter afternoon I trace the course of a blue-black fly in my small kitchen. Pretty soon my boredom gets the best of me. Once I eat a macaroon I rise to make some jasmine tea and wonder why I allow this bug (who does not share my philosophy) to sit there resting on my mug. I do not know what's in his head, but think he must be awfully smug, so I get up and leave. Instead of drinking tea I go to bed.
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