Poem: Fish

Fish

I am a fish and I sit in this bowl,
Day after day after day.
The view never changes; I don’t really mind,
I’m actually happy this way.

Late in the morning I’m properly fed,
Fish flakes are quite tasty and fine.
Other than that, everything’s much the same,
Every morning and evening I dine.

Then one night I’m sleeping when, what do I see?
(Fish sleep with eyes open, you know)
Someone comes sneaking in right through the door.
All covered in black, head to toe.

He starts to put things into his little sack,
And messing things up, oh dismay!
I cannot stand for this, not for one second more—
This fellow is going to pay!

He starts coming near—oh won’t he be surprised?
He won’t even realize what hit him.
He snatches the statue near my little home,
And then I take aim and I spit him.

He jumps and then looks round—eyes opened wide,
I spit once again on his clothes.
He leans in quite closely, right up to the bowl,
I jump out and bite at his nose.

He squeals something awful, a racket he makes,
I’m chewing his nose on and on.
The light flickers on and the family is there,
And quite soon the stranger is gone.

The house is all back in its good proper order,
I’m hailed as a hero, they say.
But that doesn’t matter, I’m happy as is--
Not a soul messes with my feng shui.