My Axolotls by Oliver
As round as bottles.
So, I will tell you their names,
And also a few of their rapscallion games.
The gold one’s called Charlie,
Her skin is like barley.
Her hot-pink gills as pretty as a feather,
And her yellow, dotted skin as tough as leather.
The black-green one’s called Speckles,
With purple gills and dots like freckles.
She sometimes tries to eat my hand,
But she never has and often only gets sand.
They’re not fish or reptiles from Mexico.
This is because a long time ago,
Their ancestors decided it would be so bland,
To just grow lungs and live on land.
But now back to mine,
And what they do to pass the time:
Speckles swims around like a hyperactive dog,
But Charlie likes it best in her cosy log.
In the tank, as well, are some colourful fishy friends
And this is how the poem ends.