Fly Fishing

There's a dull ache in my casting arm, But I can't complain everything is still and calm. I just have to try and try, To make sure I use the right fly. There are so many to choose from either dry or wet, I am going for dry which seems the best bet. The one I choose I tied myself, You won't find another on any shop shelf. It's shiny and green, And is bound to be seen. I wind in all of the slack, Then I cast the fly back. To the spot I saw the water swirl, And I thought I saw a big tail curl. My aim is spot on, And in an instance the fly has gone. In an explosion of foam, At last a trout of my own. In the sparking shower of green, silver blue, At last my hopes have come true. I am content now just the water and me, And a lovely fresh trout to take home for my tea.