A Fisherman No More

A fisherman can no longer stand Going out to sea, no longer grand At first, he sits and longs for the sea And thinks “Life is over for me” But then one day he picks up his knife A piece of soft wood, gives it a swipe Suddenly he sees a form take place A passion forms, life becomes a race. Now he rises each day with a drive Thoughts overflow, he feels so alive Surrounded by his works on the shelf Proud of them all, so proud of himself. One passion was lost, another found He’s building a new life with resound.