The Big Fish That Got Away
At Farmer John's pond, afternoon's sway,
A boy with hair, wiry sandy fray.
Shoeless, in the light of day,
Dreaming of a prize to lay.
His straw hat, a humble crown,
In a world so vast, so far from town.
Waldo, the beast beneath the blue,
A legend that in whispers grew.
For years, the chase was all they knew,
A dance of shadows, a fleeting view.
The boy, with hope in every cast,
Sought to grasp the legend fast.
The line, it danced a desperate song,
Between the right and almost wrong.
The boy, in battle fierce and long,
Believed his will was far too strong.
Yet, as victory neared its play,
Waldo found the strength to sway.
Back to the depths, the legend dove,
Leaving behind dreams and trove.
The boy, with heartbreak set above,
Felt his spirit push and shove.
Belief, a fragile, tender thing,
Felt the sharpness of defeat’s sting.
But as the hill rose to meet his stride,
An old man watched, his eyes so wide.
With a wink, he stood by the boy’s side,
"A fisherman’s tale," he gently implied.
"Isn’t just the catch, but the journey wide,
And the stories of those who tried and tried."
For in the tale of the one that fled,
Are lessons of life, woven and spread.
The patience, the struggle, the line we tread,
The dreams we harbor in our head.
Not every catch will grace our net,
But the pursuit, we must never forget.
So, young angler, hold your tale high,
Of Waldo, the fish, beneath the sky.
For in the chase, under the sun’s eye,
You’ve lived a story, bold and spry.
And in your heart, you know it’s true,
The fish wasn’t the prize—it was the view.
Copyright ©
Don Iannone
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