He saw the fly roam around

Freely in the room
A buzzing sound, 
So distracting.
He picked up a swatter and
Flung around
Again, again and again
He swung, he missed
He gave up. 
Rested the swatter. And
Continued with his work
With his crew, his cast 
All of a sudden, down came
The fly. And rested
On a table beside him. 
He picked up the swatter
Stretched his arm high
And as his limb came rushing down
He stopped.
He stopped 
Laid the swat down slowly
As if careful not to perturb 
The fly. At ease.
His crew asked in one voice 
In dismay ‘ But..’
‘ It is not the same fly’
He said
He, Charlie Chaplin, 
The Tramp, who made us laugh
When we thought 
We had better cried.

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