Is there any sign of hope?

I was playing in the sand one day

Ashamed of what I’d seen

As water danced, our rubbish filled the sea

That I once thought was crystal clear and clean.

To my surprise, an oil can, some glasses and a casket

Along with a tiny red thread and a brown, broken basket

Cried out in a pile against the seashore.

As I stare, I wonder, what if there’s more?

I ran to my mum like a baby turtle to the sea

With the wind screaming in my face.

She looked at me, “what’s the matter?” she said softly

And I replied, “are we guilty?”

We sat down and she explained

That Some People are selfish.

That Some People do not care

My immediate thought was this isn’t fair.

Then anger pulsed though my soul

Like my body had lost control

How is the marine life to cope?

Is there any sign of hope?