The Lady & the Wasp

A high-pitched squeal shakes me out of my prose induced trance
I raise my head up to see an elegant lady in an unelegant dance
Between the seats in a phobia induced panic derived from a wiley wasp
On it’s last legs, buzzing it’s way through the open door, it’s on the cusp
Of death, soon it’s ducking and weaving between a folded newspaper
Aimed in it’s direction with deadly intent, the excitement soon tapers
Off, after the creature meets his inevitable end, squished between
The paper and the window, the mood slowly returns to the serene
Soothing slumber of a Sunday that it was before.

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