Poem

The glass of water you're about to drink
Deserves a second thought, I think
A bottle of water that you just bought
Might not be originally what you sought

For you, the oceans and those you follow
Are all involved in every swallow.
Water is precious, water is rare
Yet we, ourselves don't really care

The molecules of water in a single glass
In number, at least five times, outclass
So whatever was in that water
Is twisted, magnified, or spread, most likely the latter

The glasses of water in stream and sea,
Or wherever else that water can be.
Is filled with things that we don't want
And ignore, shall we these thoughts that haunt
Gee, I don't really like this font

The water in you is treated and fixed,
Though having traversed is thoroughly mixed.
So someone quenching a future thirst
Could easily drink what you drank first!

The water you are about to taste
No doubt represents a bit of waste
From prehistoric beast or bird
A notion you may find absurd.

The fountain spraying in the park
Could well spout bits of bone, or bark
You'd be surprised where your drink has been!
Threw up, bathed in, or put in the bin

Just think! The water you cannot retain
Will some day hence return as rain,
Or be held as the purest dew.

It looks and tastes like nature's few
A stunning sight, a true clear view
Though long ago it passed through you!