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Struggles of fishing
I cover myself with the sheets
while I hear the dreadful noise,
I’m then alarmed fishing is today
and that’s how I keep my poise.
I race down stairs eager to start
so I gather my supplies and gear,
rod bait and tackle I hold in my hands
so that means, I'm all clear.
Stepping out the door
I see the calm, crystal lake.
No people, no disturbances,
its quiet, I’m glad I’m awake.
I sprint to my hurricane
filled with excitement and optimism.
I turn the key but the storm won’t start
before long I express skepticism.
Frantic, I search for a solution
so I read the gauges and see...
that the darn thing’s got no gas
I then think, silly me.
I head to the station
to fill up the bright, red tanks.
Fueling the hurricane so that
her engine won't feel any blanks.
Finally, I start the hurricane
and hear her harmonious purrrr.
I find my spot and cast a line
fish are near...I'm sure.
I cast, and cast, and cast some more
but no luck comes towards me.
My bait sparkles and shines looking tasty,
Obviously the fish disagree.
I can't help but think
I hate sitting and waiting.
I can't help but think
why can’t fishing be more entertaining?
In the midst of my doubts
I feel a tug and a bite.
My mood instantly changes,
certain i'll eat fish tonight.
I reel the fish in fast
causing me to sweat.
I have the fish to the boat…
but I have no net!!!
The fish makes splash, after splash
while it fights and squirms.
I heave the floppy fish in
but I knock over my worms.
I struggle to grab the fish
with it flopping, but I caught her.
I shout Hooray, but the slimy fish
slips and falls back in the water.
“Fishing is not for everyone,”
my father once told me.
I do agree, but more upsetting
tonight, my stomach will be empty.
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