At a place we all have seen,
There is a river that rises within
Mountain ranges, which the top
Creates the fish from the golden crop.
This river is different for each fish,
It depends on his life’s wish.
It has lots of different ways,
But north it goes always.
The clownfish was always swimming,
And the past he was always leaving.
He found something he had to hang on,
Then ahead he’d never gone.
But, the stream was too strong,
And straight he went long.
The fish had to go back,
He needed a huge throwback.
He needed a way to beat the stream,
But for that he needed a scheme.
Now, He has to jump over it.
It is hard, but he’ll never quit.
Now his life is going south,
It can't be worst.” – Said the big mouth.
As he jumped a heron caught him,
Not to eat, but so to the north he’d swim.