I would in that sweet ***** be
In sprigs of watercress,
Buzzing the cobbles and the sea
Far from the rain's duress.

If not secure, I'd swoop and dive
And search for salty stones
To lick sweet morsels all contrived
In briny ocean bones.

Instead, I'm thought of as a pest
And squashed 'neath palms with glee.
Jilted by life, like all the rest
The insects by the sea.