One dead fish.
Rotting under a bridge
An odor it did give,
Unpleasant was its trip
Swimming smoothly through the river
The water, a giver
Of air and life,
But also of strife.
With bottles of plastic leaving behind
Their particles and articles of clothes
Sitting on the floor
Staining the water a little bit more.
The oil pastel water runs smooth through town
And the fish did swim, with its plastic crown,
Until one moment it looked up,
To the green stained sky
Only to find a feathered friend lurking nearby.
Through the water the seagull broke,
And grabbed the fish by the yolk
Of its eye, staining the water
Slightly red.
And the fish was pulled out screaming
Betrayed it was by the bird who was beaming
“I caught one i caught one” it shouted
And the fish had pouted.
For it knew the days in the smooth shiny river,
Slimy and sliver
With a rotting odor
Running with motor
Of the grimy sort
With his cohort
Were over.
And the fish looked out one more time,
At the little liver river,
Under the bridge,
Dotted with the bodies,
Of many more rotting fish.
If you want to get into poetry, I’ll link some supplies below.
Simply Girly
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