A Fishing Poem
A Fishing Poem
He was a gentle old man
Who reluctantly spoke
And he’d sit on the pier
And he’d fish and he’d smoke
His eyes and the lines on his face told a tale
While his leathery hands drew the bait from a pale
This man once a lad on this very wharf stood
And he leapt and he shouted as loud as he could
For each tiddler that wriggled on the end of his hook
With excitement and pride he would offer a look
To everyone passing “hey see what I caught”
And he’d show them his fish and he’d ask what they thought
But a lifetime had passed for that excited, fair boy
Many years filled with heartache, discovery and joy
Countless friends that have gone, fortunes both made and lost
And yes lessons were learned but each came at a cost
Now he sits and he lands every fish with such ease
And in silence he packs up each days end and leaves
Many times I’ve fished by him not so close to offend
And I’ve learned from his actions and regard him a friend
Though we speak very little and trade only a nod
And we focus our stare at the end of a rod
One day I’ll replace him in his spot on this pier
At my side another young face will appear
To ask all of the questions, then it will, be my turn
To quietly say “son, just watch and you’ll learn”
poem by Michael Farmer
Added by Poetry Lover
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