The Stream
I come to this stream alone
On this very early morn
With this pole in hand
As I stop by this spot of sand
Hoping to catch a few
I might even invite you
There are small mouth and rock bass
Hiding under the rocks and grass
But with a few tricks and lures
I should be able to catch some for sure
As the bucket fills and they flip around
It won't be long I'll be homeward bound
Then to clean and fillet them up
The smell of frying fish others will show up
In the skillet they turn golden brown
As the butter makes a sizzling sound
Ok now they're done it's time to eat
Enough to make your mouth water what a treat
With some fish and potatoe wedges too
Maybe the next time I'll invite you
Just to think it all started at the stream
Where there's peace and quiet in ones dreams
I'll go back when I need to get away
With pole and lure it will be time to play
Written 10/30/2017 by Norman Hale Jr.
© 2017 norman (All rights reserved)
The Stream
The Stream
TO SOME WE SEEM LIKE A GENIOUS
TO SOME WE SEEM LIKE A FOOL
BUT OUR WORDS OF POETRY
IS JUST OUR EXPESSION TOOL
TO SOME WE SEEM LIKE A FOOL
BUT OUR WORDS OF POETRY
IS JUST OUR EXPESSION TOOL