A Fly: NaPoWriMo Day 8

It was an early dawn,
Of a sunny day and I,
Was sipping my morning coffee,
When my eyes went on a fly.

Her lightning pace amazed me,
And the buzzing fascinated my ears,
She flew around across the room,
As if looking for something dear.

And, finally, she stopped and sat,
Perhaps she found it after all,
It was nothing but a lightning bulb,
Nothing so magnificent or tall.

But, she seemed to love it,
For she danced around it in happiness,
As her buzz and tap excited my senses,She forgave her forgetfulness.

Then suddenly all movement stopped,
The fly fell down on its head,
For the very bulb had burnt her now,
And with its heat, she was dead.

I laughed at the ignorance of the fly,
And made fun of her momentary ecstasy,
She was running after and celebrating for something,
She could not touch, use, have, or be.

Running after something like this,
I wondered why would she?
When came to my senses a thought,
After all why do we?

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