The Inkwell

I don’t like rain

It’s wet and it’s cold

Shining reflective on my marbles and gold

Here I lie, on the sand

with water beneath

The helpless victim of a seaside thief

He grabbed me from my owner

whilst she was playing in the sea

and flew off to his hideout

for a moment or three

But the family of this Avian Con,

got too excited at his find.

Hopping around, in their nest,

with others of their kind

Feathers flew, and claws they scratched

and suddenly I found

I’d been dispatched

Falling from a height, and with great speed

has left me in a bit of a muddle.

But the suns rays, make me quite colourful

as I sit here by this puddle