The Little Caboose That Could:

by Scott Cole   May 11, 2016

One day in the hood
One poor mama fly,
Had a big problem
With the blue sky.

Her last little baby
Was leaving the roost,
Had tiny little wings
With not much juice.

It's up in the wind
Mama's little problem,
The sky is too light
To hold up her blossom.

What of the neighbors
What would they say,
If they knew someone
Without wheels these days.

For that is the purpose
A fly is to fly,
Why such a name
If you can't wave goodbye.

Poor little mama fly
Watched her last one,
The last of her babies
Then she is done.

The last of it's kind
The runt of the litter,
Jumped in the sky
For she's no quiter.

Off through the air
The baby fly went,
Up and down
Just like a tent.

High in the distance
Mama saw her face,
Both eyes wide open
Burning up space.

Up to the Heaven's
The mama fly looked,
With thanks in her eyes
Like an overdue book.


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