Swan River Flow Poem by JOE POEWHIT

Oh little river by me.
Flow onward to the sea.
Black, brown, not so free.
Funny BUBBLES by the lea.
Dead fish float before my eye.
Vacant look beyond death's way.
Birds swoop - then fly high.
Putrid smell comes from the bay.
Factories vomit more with time.
Baby birds with clouded eyes.
Grass wilted over to add rhyme.
Young child died - playing at five.
Just this moment I need a drink.
Where to run - RUSTY WATER SINK.
Sun can't reflect into the sky.
GOD looked down and only sighed.