Robert Dixon Poet Rhyme

The Fly

What fly is this upon my wall
darkly perched; black and small
Against the yellow it often sits
As if it is not there at all

Its eyes like red-suns don't quite fit
upon his head glowing they stick
Till everything that I can see
Has bright red eyes and giant wings

I rise from bed poised to flee
But my legs cannot carry me
It's like there's glue spread on my floor
The fly's as calm as flies can be

My yellow wall cannot support
The heavy fear that I still bore
This fear of something black and small
that still held me fast upon my floor

The fly rubs his hands and leaves the tall
perch it had on yellow wall
it buzzes around then finally falls
dead, not sinister at all

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