Winter is an unusual season for flies to move around but this one made safely to my room. Sadly enough it has not been with me for the last few days. I don´t know what happened to it. I´m worrying and feeling lonely since I share this room with nobdoy: No wife, no children, no friend. If I take this write to a local paper they think I am joking. But you know that I am serious. You have guts to look into the depth of ones concerns and feelings. That is why poets are different.

For nearly three weeks
I had a fly in my room
I didn´t take its life
Nor did I even harm it
Instead I welcomed it
And enjoyed its company
Like a friend from home

When your past is killed
And your history destroyed
Wouldn´t it sound logic
To claim a fly as a friend
A portrait of your identity
A museum piece To reconnect with