That afternoon she buzzed.
I didn’t even notice her
as she sat on my arm and
Hovered around my head.
Not until she sat on the page
Of the book I was reading…
Unafraid she wandered over
sentences and words charting her
own territory. Skipping a word here
and a line there, she found her path
that was just her own.
For an instant, I thought I would shut
her in between the pages of my book.
Making a permanent bookmark out of her.
She had after all trespassed my territory.
But the smallness of her size and
the obliviousness of her being, thwarted
my evil intention. I didn’t breathe
nor move out of fear of disturbing her.
It looked like she had found her home
In between those black lines on the white
pages. Almost disappearing at times.
Being one with the word. But I was
wrong. The fly flew taking some
words off those pages, with her.
She read the page and then read me
Zigzagging across my arm savouring
its contents. I think she dropped a few
of those words there because I had
goose bumps wherever she travelled.
Now I became one with the word.
Or at least the ones she had chosen
for me. The story of the book became
mine as the fly dispersed its wisdom.
I felt like watching her forever.
Like I could keep her as a pet or
something. We would exchange some
love and then books.
Just when I got lost in watching her,
she lost interest in me. In a second, she
flew away like a disinterested lover
and I became the proverbial
Fly on the Wall…
I should have shut the book when
I had the chance…