Fly Poem by Md. Ziaul Haque
Fly
On the street, dead,
A fly,
Had dreams to fly so high,
Before the try was much glad.
It reminds me of Icarus,
His dismal fall,
From a status so tall,
Now the word that my brain sieves is -alas!
At this time the fly looks as if it lost sense,
But the missing link has made all the difference.
Monday, October 20, 2014
Topic(s) of this poem: flying
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4/25/2024 12:23:42 PM # 1.0.0.1119
