Poem.
Image by Dana Moos, Realtor via Flickr
A cold wind blows across the Harbor bay
The boats come in and out all day
Even now in the depths of winter
The Fishermen they go out, they don’t falter.
Briging back the catch of the day
Because it is they only way they know to get pay
They get what they can, trying to make ends meat
Wishing for the suimmer and its long awated heat.
Nice Share.
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