Goldfish poem

Home and Dry

The gold fish live behind a curtain, beside the window,
Their actions at night aren’t certain, cloaked in shadow
I feed them in the dark,
am glad that they don’t bark
I’d surely have neighbours complaining if they did, it’s not snowing
But it’s raining down the chimney, carpet skids, if it keeps going
The living room will fill
Grey water scum will spill
And the fish will get their thrills
They’ll be free... to swim to the kitchen, join a communal cup of tea, with skill
They’ll dodge animals on the prowl, sneak back to the aquarium, with howls of nostalgia
All the things they could do,
Before that inevitable final trip to the loo


Just thought a little light relief was in order - it is Wednesday after all...