Is it fish he's fishing for?
A little too hard for my taste
Sitting here in the cold says it all
As long as my eyeballs don't don't turn to iceballs
My coat is zipped up right as tight as can be
My boat, she stands steady, suprise is the key
My net is my best net, it's set by my wet feet
My wet feet are crossed and their frosty and bleat
Not very lively, for such early morning
Usually fish are so plently and imploring
All day I sit waiting, bait at my side
Great, empty plate is my fate for the night
Poetry by weirdzarun
Read 525 times
Written on 2006-12-02 at 03:42
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Fly-Fishing For One Who Swims Deep Below The Surface
Nature's hand is pinching my faceA little too hard for my taste
Sitting here in the cold says it all
As long as my eyeballs don't don't turn to iceballs
My coat is zipped up right as tight as can be
My boat, she stands steady, suprise is the key
My net is my best net, it's set by my wet feet
My wet feet are crossed and their frosty and bleat
Not very lively, for such early morning
Usually fish are so plently and imploring
All day I sit waiting, bait at my side
Great, empty plate is my fate for the night
Poetry by weirdzarun
Read 525 times
Written on 2006-12-02 at 03:42
Save as a bookmark (requires login)
Write a comment (requires login)
Send as email (requires login)
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