What can I do with these bothersome flies
My face is sweating they're invading my eyes
I could swat them with my weekend paper
They're looping around, I don't like this caper
All I did was to prune the garden roses
That's the trouble when our skin we exposes
My wife is watching me from the windows
I think I'll move slowly into the shadows
Or else take my bicycle for a spin
To set me free of my imagining
Seems I have always been a fretful man
I am not quite sure when this all began
I suppose it was when I was a child
Expect you know the drift; I was meek and mild
Born in Venice so sang a barcarole
Introverted so dug myself in a hole
Image found at https://pixabay.com/photos/search/venice
Those damn flies - we both swotted them this week.. a lovely poem :)
ReplyDeleteHa ha, enjoyed this!
ReplyDeleteThe worst, when gardening, are the black flies. Their bites are horrid.
ReplyDeleteOh yes those flies are a nuisance for sure! Great write, Robin ❤️
ReplyDeleteWhat an interesting mind, this speaker has. I can practically see all those thoughts sculpting his face, while his wife watches...
ReplyDeleteI can actually feel the itch of those irritating flies.
ReplyDeleteFlies - black, blue bottle, all of them - horrid.
ReplyDeleteThis is a lovely and lighthearted poem that brought a smile, though I took pity for the speaker fretting the bothersome flies. :)
ReplyDelete