Author Information
Naughtical
He's a fish adept to swimming through darkened, shadowed tides
All of his scales and primitive might move against the currents
He'll grow so old and tired a thousand times today,
but with every stolen nibble his life prolongs a little
His eyes aren't great but magnified by lenses made of bubbles,
he'll spot a shining beacon made of light beyond the ridge
And with his meager ounces of get up and the go,
he'll move in its direction to capture scraps of glow
After he has crested hills and fought past local knives,
the lovely brightened moving thing will flutter like a ghost
and leave him floating amongst the waves lost and hoarse and sad,
wondering what's bothered it about his swimming close.
