Goldfish.

Well...Yeah....Goldfish are important too I guess...I don't know what inspires a lot of what I write, but I like goldfish anyway.

I am a goldfish.

I am small and insignificant.

I have one life and it is short, unimportant and fragmented by my own memory.

In the grand scheme of things,

It would be easier for you to flush me

Than it would be to pick me up,

Take me home,

Care about me.

He was bored,

As usual,

And his feet get itchy,

Staying in the same place for too long.

He decided to go for a drive,

And it was beautiful;

Peaking at sixteen degrees,

Highest it had been for at least four months.

He took a chance on the roadside,

When he saw the lights

And the stalls;

As usual, he didn’t really care

That he was on his own.

"Roll up, roll up."

He did.

He tossed the ring.

Time stopped.

Somebody, somewhere, made the decision,

What would happen, why it would happen.

Knocking the world off balance.

It bounced off of the peg.

The vendor shrugged,

Throwing a lop sided grin as some sort of apology,

Allowing him to choose his booby prize.

A selection of soft toys,

Bubblegum, sweets, a paddleball,

A deck of cards.

At the back of the stall were a selection of bags,

Filled with water,

And orange segments,

Placed in the shade

So they wouldn't overheat,

Or glint too much in the sun,

And blind the punters.

He shrugged once more, stepped back and let him look;

Perhaps it was fate,

That he chose the one he did,

It wasn't like the rest,

But he saw the beauty in it all the same.

He smiled.

I am a goldfish.

I am small and significant.

I have one life and it is short, but important.

In the grand scheme of things,

It would be easier for you to flush me

Than it would be to pick me up,

Take me home,

Care about me,

But you care anyway.