Sunday, December 7, 2014

Rhyming Poem


As the morning sun starts to rise,
I wake, for today I will get my prize
My fishing pole, in my hand
I will set a cast off of the edge of the land.
As I stare across the water
I wounder if I have to wait much longer
I know the bait is the best
As I try to get a fish from its rest
There is a huge tug and then a pull
As I can tell my stomach will be real full

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