The night had cast an odd creature upon the beach
luminescent in the searing sun
stranded on the sands where the waves no longer reached
A little girl took notice of the castaway
asking, are you sick?
Nudging it closer to the surf with a popsicle stick
her pale shoulders already red in the morning sun
in sympathy she carried out her work
but before it could be done
the slap of feet hit the sand, her mother on the double
carried her away from the ominous blue bubble
just as the tide washed it away to save her the trouble
Reflecting on the day what the depths do hide
falling now, rising again beneath the retreating tide
sunset sails, the child's work accomplished
she fell to sleep and dreamed of the strangest of fish
dorsal fin and purple tail, anatomically improper
she thought to ask him for a wish
a mouth of seawater stopped her
I'll take you off the hook honey, fish lips was a talker
Luminaries such as you never catch the latch
nor knock upon the door of Davy Jones' Locker

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