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My Fish…Poem

My Fish


My fish is smart, it talks to me,

with word it cannot speak.

From the bottom gravel sucks,

n’ spits at glass to squeak.


To my corner will it come

and check that I have heard.

If I’ve not, around he turn,

with tail he splash absurd.


He swims around to catch my eye,

he’s darting to and fro.

His last resort, the snail will suck,

and off with thunk he go.


Attention caught, he will then mouth,

abuse I swear he shouts.

Your late again! It’s dinner time,

he acts like local louts?


He will not rest, nor peace he give

until he has his food.

I know not what’s, within these flakes,

but it rids him of his mood.


A § M 


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