I was treading mildly down the beach
When whom should I happen upon to meet
All wave-washed up upon the sand
But you, my finely feathered friend!
On many shores, we two have met
And many countries we have seen
But this time, over your sorry life
A tide-like ebb and flow have been.
I must say, I never really liked
your peace-disturbing schemes
You picnic-stealing pirate,
With those awful piercing screams!
Your voracious appetite
Often made my stomach sore
To watch you scarf back bits of rubbish
With a greedy eye for more.
Yet lying here upon the sand
Your heart no longer beats,
And I cannot help but find
A little tenderness in me.
So I draw my heart around yours
With a spindly piece of wood
And wonder how it came to be
Death found you where you stood.
Did you chew on something far too big
That in your throat did catch?
Or perhaps get tangled up
In some idle fishing nets?
Although I do not often tend to scare
sun-bathers with my screech
Nor steal food from unsuspecting
children on the beach-
You and I, at least, have this one affinity
If we could chose, in life and death,
We'd do both by the sea!
So farewell my fine and feathered friend,
As wave upon frothy wave
Creeps in to carry you up and out
To your cold and watery grave.
(Okay, so maybe it's more than a little strange that a dead seagull I found today inspired me to write this silly poem, but I thought its existence, as pathetic as a seagull's life is, should be celebrated somehow... I once wrote a poem called "A Day in the Life of a Trash Can," so surely this one can be considered a step up from that?! Haha...)
