Fishin' | kellysongcollective

Fishin’

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.

John, week 15.