A Dobsonfly like me has got
A week to mate and then I die.
And so I gave it my best shot,
Felt eggs in me so off I fly,
And end up in a swimming pool,
Where I decide to just relax.
Then I'm grabbed by some human fool,
Who's pestering me to the max.
He Googles me, that's how I know
A Dobsonfly is what I am.
Mating - my first and final show,
And that my days are numbered - damn!
I knew I was in death throe funks,
So I left my eggs in his trunks.
Comments about this poem (Dobsonfly by Ima Ryma )
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