Where I fish
was once a railroad bridge.
Gone now, passengers dismissed,
Faded memories of beach bound trips.
I fish among the ruins in disguise,
Debris where black sea bass dance and flounder hide.
But how great the whistle must have been,
Noise rippling the creeks surface above where the fish still swim.
Don’t be surprise, the bridge is still here with me.
With passing souls, I see them each time I cast into this timid sea.
Sunday, October 24, 2021
Copyright © Robert James Liguori | Year Posted 2021
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.
to post a comment