The Concrete Stream

The sun, a brassy coin, upon the pool,
Casts shimmering discs, where minnows dart and school.
The air, a languid haze, hangs heavy, still,
While I, a beta, bask, against my will.

This concrete basin, man's unnatural art,
Confines my kingdom, limits every part
Of my wild nature, yearning to explore,
The rushing river, and the rocky shore.

Yet here I languish, captive, forced to bear
The gaze of children, with their thoughtless stare.
They point and whisper, unaware of plight,
Of freedom lost, and vanished, watery light.

I dream of currents, swift and cool and deep,
Where dragonflies their emerald vigil keep,
And lily pads unfold, a verdant crown,
Upon the surface, where reflections drown.

But here I am, a prisoner of glass,
A gilded cage, where fleeting moments pass.
And though I yearn for nature's wild embrace,
I find a solace in this sun-warmed space.

For even here, within these walls confined,
A beauty lingers, of a different kind.
The play of light, the shadows that it weaves,
A fleeting peace, that every moment leaves.

And so I wait, for some unseen release,
A yearning deep, for nature's sweet caress.
But for this moment, I will make my stand,
A solitary king, in this artificial land.