They come in a school
And swim in a pool
Not a pool of chlorine
But a pool of sea salt green
They come in colors, in every shade
They come in a little small parade
They have big eyes or small eyes
But they don’t wear ties
As they swim through the ocean they pick up some weeds
The weeds don’t even have to be green
I can go on and on about my little friends
But this poem is going to have to come to an end