Hook, Line, and Sinker
I strolled along the riverfront about two months ago,
when the morning sun was rising with a hazy lemon glow.
Pelicans were yawning while the wood ducks spread their wings,
and a coot had made its presence near the reed warbler that sings.
The autumn chill was leaving and the dew fell off the leaves.
Swallows chase the morning creatures now they’ve left their bedroom eaves.
There’s a bustle over Chaffey Bridge toward the city that awakes,
but my attention was diverted to the ornamental lakes.
It was not the water lilies with their pretty range of flowers,
but a young boy dressed in rags who quietly sits and cowers
behind a stick with tied on string that represents a fishing line,
but for decent fish the Murray holds, I’m sure his hope’s benign.
I felt sorry for this ragged lad who fished the lilies in the lake,
and I just couldn’t tell him that he’d sourced a big mistake,
so I said “Come with me young fella (but not fishing here’s a joke)
I’ll take you to McDonalds, and shout a burger, chips and coke”.
The lad hid his stick behind a tree and followed me down to the mall,
and he sat down at the table that was close against the wall,
I placed his order then returned to sit and yarn with him a while,
and we talked about his fishing and his quite unusual style.
The burger came and too the chips and then his can of coke,
I watched him hog into his food before once more I spoke.
I asked how many had he caught and while munching he did say,
“The Ornamental Lakes are great! - ‘Cause you’re the third today!”
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