Are Sharks Nice?

By
It’s 6:00 Wednesday morning,
the sun is shinning through,
he yawns
he shrugs
he stretches,
and reaches to throw his constant nagging alarm clock to the ground.

His black wet suit is waiting for him at his bedside,
he puts it on,
eats his breakfast
and heads to the beach.
“Hey, neighbor! What’s on your agenda today?” his white haired neighbor yelled,
“Just going down to the beach for a serf lesson.”
“Oh, going surfing with the great white they have been talking about.”

His white and blue surfboard blends in with the sparkling shark infested water,
he swims out to search for waves the size of Mt. Everest.
He gets up,
surfs through the waves tunnel,
until,
it crashes in on him heavily.
He sinks,
down,
to the ground.

He cannot breath
I see the light, the bright light, goodbye…

It is scaly
slimy,
grey,
it is gigantic,
he grabbed onto his fin, and now saw the real light,

the sun.

The sand never felt so good.
They say sharks are evil,
they say they fest on blood,
but do they?





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