The Wealthy Blowfly

My safe was hidden in the wall,
I had cemented it inside,
but in that year, in early Fall
I tagged along for a brief ride
in a Mercedes six-point-nine.

Was hooked on it in nothing flat
I whispered to her 'you'll be mine',
and started counting dough at that.
So, after working with the pick
retrieved the safe to grab the gold
I looked inside, poked with a stick
to scrape the dust off and the mould.

And then I saw him, all intact,
a blowfly of a hefty size.
Just sitting there, though dead, in fact
he looked at me with saddened eyes.
One foot was sitting on a pile,
all notes of high denomination.
I counted them and in a while
a most unusual sensation
took hold of me and then I learned,
that this big fly had been delirious
'cause when his life had been adjourned,
he sat upon a pile, I'm serious
of riches and could claim to be
the rightful owner, rather clever.
He never worried about me
and was the richest blowfly ever.

Linda Preston 01 June 2005

What an interesting tale with a moral.

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an unusual twist herbert blowflies generally like a bit of meat but that in itself added a twist to the poem, as usual very well presented in the nehrlich manner with the nehrlich style Warm regards AJS

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