Unwelcome Visit Poem by Ima Ryma

So very gentle I do touch.
The picked person does not feel me,
Since I am small and light and such,
And do my thing very quickly.
When I am ready to depart,
Daintily I do move away
In a pattern of mobile art,
Full of the blood sucked from my prey,
Who then notices but too late
The itch and sting where I have bit,
Causing annoyance or worse fate,
Depending on where I have lit.

And off into the air I fly,
This mosquito bidding bye bye.