A Fruitfly!
It was there on the red table cloth,
Of the Chinese Restaurant,
Where the chef use their left hands,
To pick up the right ingredients,
To put into the hot pans and pots,
To dish out the delicious fries of boneless meat,
Laced with Ketchup and in MSG puddle,
I forgot the ‘It' on the table,
It was like a grain of sand,
Suddenly started to crawl like an ant,
A small little cute ant took a stroll,
Beside my plate and cutlery,
Then it stopped crawling, I thought it was tired,
I took the servitude and folded it into a cone,
Touched it softly to provoke it,
Then it woke up from the slumber,
And started to crawl like any toddlers do,
When I tried to touch for the third time,
It spread its tiny wings and flew away,
In a split of a second, either it knows,
That it is in the wrong place,
To show its tiny fist thinking as hulk's
Or might have gone to the right place,
Where the rotten fruits are found.
poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
Added by Poetry Lover
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