Marcus, my pet dead moth who lives on my desk at work, doesn’t get out much. So I decided to go in to the office on the weekend and take him for a bit of an excursion.

A dead mosquito’s on the wall
It’s hardly recognizable
Its tail protrudes; its legs stick out
It’s dead for sure, there is no doubt

But what could cause this sad mishap?
Perchance some felon’s vicious slap?
Premeditated foul play,
Or insect suicide today?

Regretfully the past is gone
This bug won’t see another dawn
I wish I’d known it while alive
Before this fateful day arrived

I hate to lose potential friends
But time elongates and extends
And in the place Mosquito dwells
A wasp is lying dead as well.