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There's A Fruit Fly In My Coffee

I wonder what I could do

if I believed I could . . .




There’s a fruit fly in my coffee

and I get taken back

to my very first poem

that I posted on this blog

about a fruit fly

that was swimming in my wine.


Now,

two years later,

and I’ve written and published

a novel

and over 700 poems and short stories.


And all because

that little fruit fly

told me before he died

that I needed to try.


And also,

because

I must’ve

believed I could.


-C.H.

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