pole in hand and eight years old,
fishing on a summer lake;
tackle box and hook and lure,
early morning squint and ache
nothing, nothing, everything --
fish pulled out and thrown back in;
nothing, nothing, nothing more --
it's as though we'd never been
what to learn from silent times,
what to say when nothing's gained;
pole in hand and eight years old,
bored, but somehow,
entertained
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Tagged: Tags Autobiography Poetry
Published by Beleaguered Servant
Owen "Beleaguered" Servant (a/k/a Sibelius Russell) writes poetry mostly, with an occasional pause to have a seizure.
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