20 Lines A Day

A Community of Writers and Photographers

Fish.

Eyes turn to stare
At the new fish on the street

Dirty brown, ragged, dusty, filthy.
A pure-bred,
A perfect addition to their collection
In the tank.

Joining the ranks of four others,
A school, lined up in neat row.
Body after body after body after body after body
Resting on their tails – fish have no legs.

More eyes stare.

Their mouths open and close – but no one hears.
Fish make no noise.

Their eyes plead as yet another cent drops, more, more, they cry! – but
Fish have no choice.

Their scales flinch as a stray coin hits them – but no one cares.
Fish have no voice.

The water engulfs them,
Hundred pairs of huge eyes are magnified
Inspecting the fish.

A fish bubbles – his final one -
The reverie breaks, the other fish scatter,
And the people walk away to their lunches in fancy restaurants
Fish and chips, nicely buttered.

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Author: Sorrows In A Serenade

a writer, a poet, a thinker, an idealogist. Follow me at www.sorrowsinaserenade.wordpress.com! :D

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