Comments Inbox
| |
About This Poem
Just Fishing
The day was shades of grey
like shetches in charcoal,
almost one dimensional,
as I gazed from my perch
at water’s edge
looking beyond my line
which was taut and moving.
Startled, I flicked my rod back
but the line went limp
and I left it there,
not thinking—or caring that—
the bait might be gone.
I wasn’t really here to fish anyway.
It was only an excuse
to be alone and--
some might think it strange
to be just sitting here
in the rain…
11/14/2012 For Seren's contest
|
|
|