Monday, May 4, 2009

Poem

Fishing
When my Grandpa was alive he loved to fish
When he did he went home and ate if from a dish
He loved the smell of the salty sea
And when he was out there we let him be
We watched him from the little ledge
With our feet dangling over the waters edge
For hours on end we would watch and wait
Hoping for something to take the bait