Baby Platy

In the tank are eighteen fish, Or maybe there are twenty. It’s hard to count them, but to me, It seems that there are plenty. The tank is not too spacious But with pebbles and live plants, The black and orange platys Do their slo-mo floaty dance. Yet I was shown a baby Hiding underneath the leaves And there might be another one, Or so my son believes. It’s cool to see how creatures Have their instincts kicking in, Doing what they can to stay away From hungry next-of-kin.