Fishing Rod

Fishing Rod

The rod glints in the silver moonlight,

Dripping the bait into the icy pool below

Waiting, waiting, a calm stillness fills the frosty air

A shadow creeps over the scurried ground afar

As the lake hums a tone of all those we have lost

Fishing for memories of times celebrated together

As one, as a group, in the faded burnt sky

A face among the darkened clouds shines

As their name is forever called amongst the wind

As the lake hums a tone of all those we have lost...Copyright © 2023 Willi-van-de-Winkel. All rights reserved.