Waiting for silvery flickers to rise,
We stood upon the stern,
And yearned a sub aquatic prize,
Whilst summer skies began to burn.
With heads and tails and skin and scales
Within the waters, calm.
Hooks and feathers - spiky jails,
And shiny spools within our palms.
A waiting game. No more - No less.
Tired arms began to dangle.
Frustration sums it up i guess,
When lines entwine and tangle.
A hundred minutes passed me by,
Without a single twitch.
Then the old man struck, and reeled him up...
© Copyright 2016 ben hardstaff. All rights reserved.
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