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FISH STORY
I imagine that I must have surprised you,
What with your waiting game, your sport.
You exhausted me with your angler’s skill;
You had me hooked, long, on the line.
It was the lure, you,
I swallowed you whole.
I had not seen the great barb nestled in the fly,
Your beauty, I had become prey to it,
You must have imagined, you must have known,
How beautiful you seemed to me,
How you dazzled, your shimmer,
And I ate you right to the lead sinker.
I was your catch.
I believed every thing you said.
Who might have divined it?
Given the great tensile strength of your nylon-reel wire,
Hard to phantom that I could break it;
But I took a deep dive toward bottom,
Then with a fierce, five-foot leap
I broke above the water's surface.
A loud snap announced how taut had grown the tension.
At once boat and bait had lost all connection.
Who would have envisioned it?
I swim with that hook still puncturing my mouth.
Your fisherman’s string, its segment,
It still runs along side of me for at least a yard.
My injury, it hurts, and I shall have to bear it for life,
But I have set myself at liberty,
Free to travel world’s grand and open ocean seas.
And may I ask, again, take a moment, please, consider,
Who would ever believe my, this fish story!
But it is true; I have broken from you.
Wednesday, June 22, 2011
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