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.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
