Her love is in remission. I’m going fishing.
I’ve heard a lot about the sea.
All I need’s a hole, a tackle box and pole,
a canoe and me.
Ya, I’ll catch a big one. Then I’ll throw it back.
Then I’ll land another. And smack it on the head with a thwack.
First I lobster then I flounder. I’ll drink a forty pounder.
It’s like I’m on a fishin’ quest.
Worried about the view. I’ll drink two.
It’s an eighty pound test.
Catching and releasing, is out of season.
There’s no limit on my fun.
I got seven on a stringer. None on my finger.
Here comes the warden. Got to run.
When I think I’ve caught ‘em I’m snagged on the bottom.
I may have to cut a line.
Wait, I got a bite. My rod’s tight.
Things may work out fine.
Back at the camp my mood is damp
But the sun begins to shine.
A hot date. Fish on the plate
Miss Trout runner-up in ’69.
It’s turned into a whale, my fish tale.
Looks like I’m calling it a day.
Nobody can take from me my time out on the lake I see
And the one that got away.
© Audsongs 2014
John, week 15.