poetry friday

Bathtub Bay
by Lenore Riggs

The boats that sail in Nancy’s fleet
Are such as never sailed the sea.
Content they lie in Bathtub Bay
(An island there, is Nancy’s knee).
The sponge becomes a fishing smack,
The cake of soap, a small canoe,
The bathbrush is a battleship
That sails so proudly on the blue.
There’s lots of fun in Bathtub Bay;
So Nancy plays there every day.