POEM: SAID THE SPIDER TO THE FLY

"Well, hello," said the spider as he eyed a juicy fly.

"It was really very nice of you to stop as you went by.

It's obviously occurred to you that I'd enjoy a lunch

That has a lot of flavour and a very special crunch."

"Not really," said the housefly, as she struggled to get free,

"I haven't got the time for lunch, I have a date, you see.

My husband's found a lovely pile a horse has left behind.

To stand him up to stay with you is rather too unkind."

"I really do not think so," said the spider, drawing near.

"I don't think you've got time for him, you've really not, my dear.

Do I detect a shiver? Are you cold or have a chill?

Let me wrap you up all snug and stop you feeling ill."

"Oh, no, you shouldn't bother. I'm quite well," said the fly.

" I am very, very busy and I haven't time to die.

I haven't time to stay for lunch or even for a snack,

But later on, when I have time, I promise I'll come back."

The spider laughed and shook his head, oblivious to fate,

Not realising both of them would soon be very late.

A sudden swing of newspaper, rolled up very tight,

Came down and sent the pair of them onto endless night.

Upon a pile of horse dung, Mr Fly does wait,

Wondering, as a fly does, why his date is late.

All that marks the place where his wife and spider sat

Is a black and sticky smear where the pair of them went SPLAT!

© Tracey Meredith 2015

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