Listen to poem:
Fishing For My Youth
The bike cross bar loaded , rods tied in place.
Gunns pools calling but there is, no race.
With it's fallen willow its a beautiful space
to forget about lifes rat race.
All my surrounding are just pristine.
There's a mist on the water like some sort of smoke screen
and not a ripple on the lake can be scene
awaiting the the Leviathans who lay unseen.
A sunrise breaking over head
and a full days fishing lies ahead.
Me pop and me butty's made with brown bread
I'm all comfy sat on a camp bed.
Watching my float dip out of sight.
waiting patiently for that first bite.
I'm staying all day from break of sun light to twilight
and if the fish bite i will fish in the moonlight.
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