Ode to a Three Dollar Fish

Ode to a Three Dollar Fish

A cold bleak wintery night
A fleeting moment's glory.
Daybreak to first twilight,
Alas, Bob, this was your story.

A plastic see-through watery cell
with airholes in the top,
You lived a week, and you lived it well,
then all of a sudden stopped.

My wife brought you home last week,
With all your stuff she snuck.
Alas, you weren't much more to me,
then a poor use of ten bucks.

Now we find a week has passed,
and you're no longer swimmin'.
And I can't help but think to ask,
"What is wrong with friggin' women?"

That they would go and spend hard cash,
on trivial things like this.
To find themselves in a moment's flash,
an upturned beta fish?

To the next realm, where dead fish go,
your time is now to depart.
Yet I think your death was apropos,
for a 3 dollar fish from Wal-mart.