IN MY COCOON OF QUIETUDE.

As to be of loud company in a small

Cocoon of quietude,

The fly takes its sojourn promptly

Over tables of silvery metal surface,

Then casually flies onto my arm...

without a drop of purpose,

Not taking to liking the taste of my

sleeve,

Buzzing off snootily finding pieces

of cake crumb to inspect and munch

perched on a child's metal seat;

Maybe through the fly's thousand

eyes... people mill around liken

to some thousand chinese dolls

On this sun-drenched afternoon

Interrupting my space teasing all

sense of quietude by nauseating

Incessant buzzing;

Happily playing the lounge as people

wave it on as its innocence of being a

nuisance keeps its tune humming...

until the bell for its life finally tolls!