Once upon an evening’s swim, which I did instead of the gym,
Hoping perchance for a moment or two to snore,
While I was drying, gently frying, suddenly there came a’flying
As a human faintly crying, crying above the ocean’s shore.
“But a seagull,” I muttered. “Flying above the ocean’s shore –
But a seagull, and nothing more!”
He saw not clam nor tuna, found no prey in his laguna,
Eying only the plastic on the sandy, desolate floor.
So down he swooped, and for joy or sorrow, whooped
As the plastic slowly looped; looped around his neck he wore,
For some careless litterer this deadly plastic he wore;
Quote the seagull, “Nevermore.”