The Fish

Posted on Dec 28, 2011


She watches the fish swim around the bowl
Knows how it feels in its see-through gaol
Sees it looking for a way out of its hell
Around and round it goes, no story to tell

The more she watches the fish in the bowl
The more she feels a connection whole
It stops its swimming for a minute and looks
At her, mouth open and closing, she the baited hook

This fish, colours so beautiful
Looks sad and lonely in its bowl it rules
No escape and nowhere to go
This lonely fish has no real home

Also it knows nothing of the world
Only vague memories in its waters do swirl
Of other places it’s sure it knows
Like a dream of lost worlds in which it roams

She imagines this that the fish thinks
Stuck in its small world in which it eats and drinks
What waters should it grace from there
Where does it belong, does anyone care?

But what she’s really thinking deep down
Is of her life twenty-nine years long, thirty bound
Of who she is and where she’s going
And is this her life fast she’s blowing?

So as the fish continues on its endless swim
Wandering what’s to come and what’s been
Will she be gulping like the fish for air
Will she be looking from the bowl to stare?

Posted in: Poetry