I can smell the fresh water,
Nothing fresh about it.
It is natural,
As natural as manure,
From a galloping mare,
From a mooing meaty caboose.
There floats on the top of the water,
Much more pleasurable and natural scenery.
A lily pad,
I never met a bad Lilly,
Whether a girl or a lad.
A home for turtles,
A refuge for fish,
A perfect object,
For a photo.
As the snap sounds,
Coming from my camera’s lens,
I can’t stop myself from wondering,
About my next sense.
What does a lily pad taste like?
Could it be why the turtle and fish,
Don’t eat or quarrel?
Or is it that resting is better than appetite?
Is being safe better than lily marmalade?
A question that cannot be answered today,
Unless I want to test it,
Probably get arrested,
By the local Lotus Hill authorities,
Who appear to be coming this way.