The garbage barge is floating large,
A
tugboat smoothly towing.
The
seagulls swoop, a noisy group,
To
follow where it’s going.
I
sit and stare, quite unaware
Of
who might pass behind me,
But
those who know where I might go
Would
very quickly find me.
Unless
it’s wet or winter’s net
Has
trapped me and it’s freezing,
I’ll
be right here, the river near,
To
all my senses pleasing.
No comments:
Post a Comment