My Dad will be 80 years old in a few more months, and his age is showing with poor health and so on. We got to sharing old fishing stories over the weekend, and thought I'd try to capture these impressions in a poem:
FISHIN' & GRINNIN'
The tug is the drug, Dad once exclaimed,
As a salmon took his fly
I smiled standing by
With the net in hand
Ready to land
His fish … and we were both grinnin' …
Eight years old, I believe that was when,
Dad taught me to cast,
I felt a man at last,
The rod bent back,
Took up the slack,
And whoosh … I was fishin' & grinnin' …
Trout or salmon, bass or shad,
The joy of the catch
No other thrill could match,
My Dad and I
As the years went by,
Together … we were fishin' & grinnin' …
Remember that time? remember that fish?
I recall the look on his face,
A trip to our secret place,
Age slows him down,
Makes him frown,
It's our trip … we're fishin' & grinnin' …
All memories now, it's done and it's over,
He's full with years
Must hide my tears,
'Cuz his eyes get bright,
As he talks about a fight,
A big one … he's still fishin' & grinnin'.