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And So We Fished
We climbed the gate while it was dark
So no one saw us in the park
We’d leave at eight and we’d be fine
For ‘Mr Keys’ would come at nine
This garden where the roses grew
In memory of people who
Wouldn’t mind that we were there
For where we trod, we trod with care
Not too much gear, we travelled light
No lamps to show up in the night
We had a place where we would sit
Until things brightened up a bit
Of brick and tin, with seats within
Its open face, a welcome grin
The shelter offered lakeside views
For those bereaved to sit and muse
And gazing out on yonder lake
In no rush for the day to break
It watched the mist sit dense and white
On waters that still clung to night
But as the moon took to its pillow
Something splashed beneath the willow
Newly crowned the sun took hold
To warm two lads who’d braved the cold
And in that dawning day we wished
For fish to feed… and so we fished
With bread or maggots, worms or cheese
To lure the carp from under trees
We caught one never, not once ever
We tried our best but carp are clever
They proved a never ending wait
But perch and roach would take our bait
And so we fished for what would bite
And every fish was pure delight
For every fish was surreptitious
Which made the fishing more delicious
Our voices low to show respect
The silence as I recollect
Was broken when the ducks went daft
Which sounded like the whole lot laughed
Then in the now increasing light
A few of them began to fight
A precursor, perhaps, to breeding
We didn’t care… the fish were feeding
And of the fish that we caught there
A tiddler was extremely rare
Though some were bigger than the rest
And sometimes, one, a personal best
But when the time had passed us by
With Mr Keys’ arrival nigh
Reluctantly we’d sneak away
No sign that we’d been there that day
*
How often have I reminisced
Of two good friends and where we fished
And of the people buried there
And how they didn’t seem to care
Copyright ©
Terry Flood
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