It's About Two Flies

IT’S ABOUT TWO FLIES by JOHN M. ARRIBAS In a Garbage Dump Two Flies Met on a Rotting Bun Suddenly Realized They Were Father and Son Hadn’t Seen Each Other since Lunch at the Sty Twas the First Time Sonny Had Attempted to Fly Dad, You Look Skimpy Do You Get Enough to Eat When I Was Young, Fast and Quick on My Feet I Was Daring and Landed Anywhere I Pleased I Often Landed on Food Being Eaten, I Teased Age Has Caught up to Me, Now I Need to Be Sure So My Meals Are Limited to a Pile of Manure I Reminisce Daily, Thinking When I Was Your Age I Dove, Swirled: Aerial Antics Impossible to Gauge I’m Two Weeks Old Now and Nearing the End The Manure Pile Is Where My Time I Usually Spend Being Cautious I Now Reside in Constant Miasma I’ve Learned to Adjust and Live Despite the Aroma There Is One Maxim of Which I Constantly Think Life Is Tolerable If You Don’t Dwell on the Stink