A poem by M. Jai Jenkins
A writer, busy at his desk, was interrupted by a fly,
he tried to ignore it but it kept buzzing by.
“shoo”, he waved his hand… it laughed and rose up high,
before he could continue writing, it buzzed back by.
He swatted at it once more and yelled out “why?”,
“buzz” “buzz” “buzz” was the fly’s reply.
He tried to continue, cause he needed to write,
and before he wrote another word, it buzzed by twice.
He needed to focus but the fly was intrusive,
to no avail he swiped, for most fly’s are quite elusive.
“Where did it come from?”, he yelled with confusion,
to continue writing: there was only one solution.
Leaving his desk, the writer retrieved a towel,
As the fly landed up high and would not come back down.
There stood a six-foot floor lamp, with 3 lights attached,
It was next to the desk and the fly landed next to that.
He couldn’t move the lamp, cause the fly would fly away,
He decided to swing around it, if he miss, he’d hit the shade.
The writer was swift, swinging around the lamp with force,
He knew the fly was half-licked but the writer had no remorse.
The fly was near dead, until the lamp saved his life,
When then towel wrapped around it twice and held on tight.
A demonstration in physics, well played too fast,
When the lamp struct the writer’s forehead, leaving a gash.
Hours later, with a headache and bandage near the eye,
He haven’t written a word but the fly, still buzzed by.
Multiple lessons learned and now he knows not dare,
To give a fly that buzzes by, any worry nor care.
Yes, I still have the scar to prove true; the lesson I have shared,
Don’t let small things bug you, from tending to affairs.