A trout-colored wind blows
through my eyes, through my fingers,
and I remember how the trout
used to hide from the dinosaurs
when they came to drink at the river.
The trout hid in subways, castles,
and automobiles. They waited patiently for the dinosaurs to go away.
Yes, The Fish Music
Richard Brautigan
(1)
Poem topics: away, remember, river, wind, hide, drink, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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