I'm glad I'm not a goldfish
And let me tell you why.
When they start to wobble,
They are "flushed" away to die.
Maybe with a little love
They could once more swim away.
But when they lean upon their side,
We're quick to "flush" away.
It happened fast and one was gone.
T'was better if it drowned.
The only thing that gave concern
Was who would "flush" it down.
When I look at goldfish now,
I have a gnawing doubt
That unless I hold my head up
The world will "flush" me out.
Bev Bryant from In Search of Wings