The Fisherman
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When I was a young teen I spent a lot of time on the beach.
This young man caught my fancy.
We never met, we never spoke.
I just watched him from afar.
He casts his net in cool, deep water,
Intent on things below.
Silently I watch him work,
But he will never know.
The sun gleams off his sun bronzed back.
His muscles glisten, shine,
As sweat and water mingle,
Emphasize each line.
He comes out here most every day,
Fishing from a skiff.
Bare but for some faded shorts,
He gives my heart a lift.
Copyright © Judy Ball | Year Posted 2017
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