Tuesday, April 10, 2007

ALL TIME FAV!

The Fly

Little fly,
Thy summer's play
My thoughtless hand
Has brushed away.
Am not I
A fly like thee?
Or art not thou
A man like me?
For I dance
And drink and sing,
Till some blind hand
Shall brush my wing.
If thought if life
And strength and breath,
And the want
Of thought is death,
Then am I a happy fly,
If I live,Or if i die.

left to seek for more fun
Her Name
SHUCHEN

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