Phil Brown -  journalist . writer . poet

Phil Brown

journalist . writer . poet

articles . books . poems


by Phil Brown



My room's a tank where currents run,
A quiet place where no suns come,
The small fish waver, dart and play
While I rise up and float away.

Small creatures dot my sea-grass floor
And crab-shell shoe sit by the door,
My seaweed shirts fill cupboard caves
Where Moray ties wrap hanger slaves.

I work and watch and wait all day
With fellow fish who kiss and sway,
We flash and wheel behind the glass,
We rise and fall, we dodge and pass.

And when each night our swim is done
I find a wreck, my treasure's won
And in the silence of the deep
I doze and bubble into sleep

by Phil Brown

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Copyright © Phil Brown