Before the fish must end in someone else’s plate, somebody must do the catching.

A new morning was just unfolding
He walks to shore to start his catch
Tall, lean and hairs on scalp thinning
A low end life without saving much
Squeals of seagulls against the breeze
Sound of waves as he plunges to the sea
Cold of water got him down to his knees
He boarded his boat and paddled to be free
By the fishing spot he launched his fly rod
Ignoring his lonely life to get him down
By the end of his rod appeared a jumping cod
An overwhelmed heart nearly got him drown
By the end of the day before the fall of dusk
The fisherman paddled his way back ashore
With enough catch his wife has nothing to ask
As the tide of life renders everything unsure
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