The best pilot - a poem

 

The best pilot

 

There once was a young boy merely napping

Under a warm apple tree

The bright summer day didn’t beckon him

To play with this other friends free

 

Then there came a buzzing

A flapping of some tiny wings

The noise did bother the boy

Who’d been trying to nap since three

 

If he comes again

I will swap him,

Thought the tender sleepyish boy

Then I will get on with my napping

I am tired from doing my chores

 

There came again that buzzing

A flapping of some tiny wings

The noise did bother the boy

It’s the second interruption, you see

 

The boy grabbed on to his cup

The one that once had lemonade

with eyes closed he waited enough

to make the fly think his point had been made

 

Out flew his hand

And with a bit of luck,

The fly got trapped

Right into his cup!

Against the tree, attempts were made,

But that little fly

Was there to stay

 

Wait! Cried the fly!

You don’t understand!

If you keep me in here I will die!

And I will never become

What I have dreamed

What I have dreamed all my life! 

 

The shriek did shock the boy,

Who held the cup onto the tree

This talking fly was a fighter!

But there was no way he was letting him free!

 

Then the fly went on crying 

Trying to convince the boy

That he was a special fly

With more value then all the boy’s toys

 

He wept on of his dream of becoming

The best pilot of his town

Ever since he was a tiny fly

He knew he’d bring the rest of them down

 

He told the boy of all his training

His hard work had to pay off!

To end up swashed against a tree

Wasn’t what he expected at all!

 

The cocky boy then replied, gripping the cup with one hand,

You don’t mean a thing to me, fly

You’re the one who doesn’t understand!

You see, I will crush you with my hand

And then I will go off to play

My friends are waiting for me

We’re going to have fun all day

 

And I won’t remember you, fly

You are nothing but a silly bug

With silly little dreams

What were you thinking of?

A pilot? That won’t be you!

To this tree and to me, all you’ll be is goop!

 

The fly plead some more

For his tiny life

But the boy just ignored

Then he murdered the fly

 

For his friends were now in sight

They were calling him, see

It was time for a game

Time for some hide and some seek

 

But then the boy realized

That he was in a daze!

Had he been only dreaming?

He wondered amazed

 

He woke from his dream

No tree was around!

Just his cozy blanket

no fly there to make a sound

 

The dream did make an impression that lasted years, maybe longer

For he learned that if he had to convince anyone of his worth,

It was better to die as the fly

Then to be near blind, heartless, crazy monsters. 

 

-slm 10-16-2006

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