In my mind,
Fifty years hence
Two old friends, by then
Friendly banter, tall tales
Fish stories
There they were,
On the bank of the pond,
Seven or nine,
No more than that
Fishing poles, tackle box,
Knotted line,
And a net between them
Thick with the muck and wet
As they try to catch the big one
Hornpout and koi, and goldfish
As big as their arms
Just out of reach
In the murk
Or surfacing
Too near to forget
Seasoned veterans
Already, or so they seem.
On the their own
In the park,
Under the July sun
No waders yet;
But they will come
Along with more practiced yarns
Told with echoes of memory
When they are older
-------------------
edited November 15, 2018
Future Curmudgeons – v2
July 10, 2004
Future Curmudgeons
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