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Fly
On the street, dead,
A fly,
Had dreams to fly so high,
Before the try was much glad.
It reminds me of Icarus,
His dismal fall,
From a status so tall,
Now the word that my brain sieves is –alas!
At this time the fly looks as if it lost sense,
But the missing link has already made all the difference.
Fly:
I like your poem how the death of a fly made no sense to the fly but it soul had made sense of death.
Excellent line. Good write, albeit brief.
http://www.postpoems.org/authours/a.griffiths57
Thank you
This is exactly the meaning what I tried to paint the poem with. Thank you my friend.