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A Fisherman No More

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We must always keep ourselves open to a new passion when life seems to become stale.
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.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2017

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Date: 3/25/2017 11:37:00 AM
Betty Janko, this poem inspires me & others who may be in all kinds of transition (Life is Good because God is Good, amen). Thanks for writing it. Anil
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