Going Buggy

If  I were a little bug, with wings to fly away,
No way would I be hanging ’round the same old folks each day.
I’d bat my little wings, swish- swish, and head for parts unknown,
Taking no one with me, just buzzing on my own.
I’d be at someplace new each day and on one would know where;
And I’d take steps to be assured no one would find me there,
For all those folks who swat at me with endless aggravation
Have led me to want nothing more than to “bug out” on vacation.

Edwina Williams

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