Why a Fly?

Why a Fly ?

words and picturesby

valerie s. johns

?

WHY?

“WHY a fly?” asked I, asked I.“ WHY a fly?” I want to know! No one can tell me.

I asked my mom, “WHY a fly?” and she said, “What?”“WHY are there flies?” I asked.

I can tell you one thing: I did not like her answer.

“ I cannot tell you WHY a fly. There’s just no way to say.”

WHY?WHY?

Why do I have such a troublesome Why?It’s big and noisy, always demanding answers,making new questions.No one can tell me Why a tree.No one can tell me Why.

WHY?

I asked my Dad, “Dad, Why the sky?” and he just smiled.

“You know, you’re cute,” he told me.

I was not cute. This was serious.

WHY

I shoved my Why to him.“Why aM I hERE?” I asked him."Why aRE WE hERE, I want to know!”

“Because you were born,” he told me. That’s HOW I got here, not Why, I thought. I tried to stay quiet about it.

WHYow.

The quieter I tried to stay,the heavier my Why grew.My WHY was enormous!I felt it on my head.It was standing on my stomach.It was a mountain of Why.

(sigh.)