Shoo Fly

I just watched a fly
Commit suicide.
It buzzed about my room
not really on my nerves, yet.
I was enjoying it's company.
Lighting a candle I stood
Watching the shadow of this fly
Dance about the calm flame.

Just then the flame jumped and
Went to a low burn for an instant.
I saw the fly afloat in the pool of wax
Below the burning wick.
It was black and tiny
Like a piece of burnt rice.
It's wings disintegrated,
The hair line thin legs broken
Off and rolling down the shaft
Of the red candle.

I could not help but wonder
If that is the way we all will die.
Do we collect on the ground like
Common dirt and remain?

I began to feel annoyed
At the fly's remains on my candle.
So with the tip of my pen
I shored him down the other side

The fly is stuck there.
In time another tide of hot wax
Will run over that black speck
And I will soon forget.