Fish

The catch of the day is the feast of tomorrow

The wet smell from the market lingers

In fish pies, sushi bars and chip shops

The catch of the day is the banquet of tomorrow.

Hanging by their fins inhaling smoke

They don’t look appetizing when raw

I never thought I would like eating fish

Hanging by their fins inhaling smoke

Their home was a large ocean

linked by streaming rivers and crashing waterfalls

Now they’re dead, they’ve travelled

Further then they ever did at sea where

Their home was a large ocean