Won't be long now.

Three days from now

I sit on the prow

Of the fishing raft how

I try to fish now

 

 

My Captain Cliff

Bridges the rift

Between my old skiff

And the hunting I wish

 

That my days did hold

And while I still fold

The new dreams are told

Are of fish all cold

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

That elude my grasp

 And swim right past

The rod I cast

Never to be last

 

Of my desire to be

A fisherman thee

That gets maybe three

Of the elusive fishee

 

 

Maybe I can win

A fish that can swim

And a beer that gives in

To my ongoing grin