Is it a water logged tree trunk I see
floating in a placid the man-made lake?
No, not at all,
it’s a crocodile thrown into the water
by a man who thought that reptiles could be tamed
and wag a tail like dogs when he patted crock on its scaly head
or let it sleep on the sofa.
No fish left nor vainglorious goats,
which used to come
and admire their reflection in the smooth lake.

Disappeared too did lone anglers
and dogs that thought that the half submerged tree by the shore
was a request to cock a leg.
The man, with the red fedora and tight fitting green corduroy
that used to herd long legged sheep vanished also
but he fled to the city to get away from
bantam minded people’s ignorant snigger and polluted remarks;
now makes a living selling paintings of idyllic villages in Algarve.