Years ago when I was small
Still small now,  that’s nothing new
The river would be my port of call
Where I would sit admire the view

I had everything under control
And had devised a cunning plan.
Out came my bamboo pole
And my tiny baked bean can.

You see I always had a wish
As I sat there with a flask of tea
That  I could catch some fish
From a boat on the big blue sea.

But as I sit by the  brook
My skin shivers and I squirm
As I attach to a battered hook
Half of a chopped up worm.

The fish I do catch are returned
with a kiss on their slimy skin
I know kissing a fish is wrong
you d not know where they've been.

I hope they go to clearer waters
rather than this ***** river stream
Explore life like I have now done
and that they fulfil their dream.

But sadly most fish end up with chips
battered with lashings of vinegar and salt
They were in the wrong place at the wrong time
It is neither their or our fault.

When I was young with my pole and bean can
dreaming of the future was always in my brain.
Now as I sit here thinking of those times
wishing I could relive them all over again.