As I sit on this quaint fishing vessel,
Looking out on the calm lake before me,
My line tugs something with which I wrestle;
Fighting for my catch, I brawl with much glee:
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Rarely do I cast my line so far out,
Even rarer does something ever bite;
The great strength of this one, I highly doubt,
That this could be real, for I'm never right:
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But just when I thought I got a good grasp,
I noticed something wrapped around my cord;
In my confusion, it hit me alas,
Another's hook, she was not my reward;
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What use is it to teach a man to fish,
If the one he missed was his only wish?
YOU ARE READING
Shackled Sonnets: A Collection of Poems
PoetryA collection of sonnets about that which I shall never have. A girl I love, but she loves another. I have only recently been reading and writing poetry because of her, so hopefully, my writing will get better as time goes on. Check back for a new so...
