Mr. Fish is like wondering through the puddle of nobody’s who don’t like his fins and scales. Everyone says, “Oh, why Mr. Fish, we don’t like your gills and your splashy twirls!” He swims left and right, but it’s all tight and not a single bubble of joy floats around. Fishy friends swim away, and Mr. Fish thinks, “Why nobody here likes me in my watery spree?” It’s a big ol' ocean, but feels like a tiny sink, where all the fishes blink and sink. No waves of happy, just crabs that tap, and Mr. Fish flaps with a big old flap, wishing for a snack. But the snack is a dream, like a gleaming sunbeam, and all the fishy dreams swim from above, as nobody shows him love. So, Mr. Fish, in his watery dish, just swims in circles, wishing for a wish.