I sit behind my window frame,
Looking at the deep, blue sea.
It’s dark, and I can’t quite see,
But a fish is falling weak.
Its scales are dimmer than the rest.
Its size is tiny, not the best.
It’s finally worn out to death
And falls from the farthest depth.
One less fishy in the sea
Means one more wish for me.
Copyright © Emily Marshall | Year Posted 2013