Pane

You'd think he should have been content
with having half the sky.
But no, a model of frustration

was
this
fly.

He could not bear the window shut,

’twas not enough to spy
the other side: he had to get to

there
or
die.

And now he lies a testament

upon the windowsill
to the intractability of



a
fly's
will.

But I've begun to understand

the folly of the fly,
for there beyond this leaded pane is

where
you
lie.

James B. Nicola

If you've any comments on this poem, James B. Nicola would be pleased to hear from you.

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