we stood there on the dock, the waves coming in slow

the most familiar feeling, but you, I’d hardly known

your red hair looked like a campfire

dancing on your head

while your words warmed me deeply

as you frowned at me and said



“there’s no fish in this lake, I wanna go inside”

I laughed as we sat there, smiled and replied

“I was just like you when my grandpa took me to this dock

give it 10 more minutes, if there’s no bites, then we’ll stop”



you grabbed my hand and sat down, feet over the side

gave me your pink fishing pole, little eyes opened wide

looking for the fish, but it was too dark to see down there

leaned against my side, as the springtime breeze cooled the air



it didn’t seem so long ago, I was here with someone else

and he smiled like I smiled at you, while we fished by ourselves

he taught me to be patient and he taught me to live slow

while all I might’ve taught you, was that the fish don’t always show



after that, we went back in the house and said our quick goodbyes

I ruffled the fire on your head as you hugged around my side

kind of like I did when I let my grandpa go,

but I didn’t think this would be the last time, I’d see you again



though



as quickly as you came in my life

that’s as quickly you both went out

it’s all the same anyway, that’s how family things go about



but I’ll never forget that little smile and your little dig

when I lied and said, “I think we’ve got one, and it’s pretty big”

you said “Johnny it’s been 10 minutes and we haven’t caught a fish,

I’m getting really cold and I think we’re pretty bad at this”



I wish he could teach me again so then we’d actually catch a few

but he’s gone away, and now so have you

sometimes people die, and sometimes people’s parents get divorced

now you’re just a little stranger, who I fished with once before