To Dad on His Day, Opening Day of Fishing
“The Ol’ Fisherman”
In memory of Dad
Standing in alpine water,
Feet frozen in their
Wool socks and waders,
He raises a be numbed hand
To wipe his runny nose
And adjust the tilt
To the ol’ fishin’ hat.
For hours now he’s stood there,
Casting and retrieving..
Casting and retrieving….
Casting and retrieving……
Knowing deep down in his heart
That out there somewhere
Swims a trout.
A trout with enough
Hunger or curiosity
To give his fly a try.
I miss you dad.
Wish we were fishin’ today.
Love,
Steven
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I love this poem. hugs!