The Fly

The fly buzzes annoyingly
In my room
He eludes my efforts
To end his life

But he is a long way from home
And he is as lonely as I am
Never to make contact
With his kin again

Trapped in a container
Not of his making
He flies to what he knows best
The light of day

The glass, cold and unyeilding,
Prevents his escape
and hands of giants
Intend him harm

But the fly has hope
For days of sugar and carrion