Icky

was the name of her fish,
a little tetra I bought her
when she was three.

we spoke to him,
we poked him with a finger,
and one day he died

you know, my darling
I began to explain how
life is about loving

and it's OK to be sad
when we lose
a dear friend

she finally spoke.
'You know, daddy, ' she said
'he was only a fish.'

[...] Read more

poem by Mike Finley
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!