An art or a sport Some whisper a ‘crazy obsession’, And like Golf where age won't cut short At least our pastime won't lead to depression.
A hook and a line Much patience, sun balms, No rush when your world is sublime With glistening waters and a horizon of wavering palms.
They ask what we do Long hours surveying the sea, So little they know for amidst all that blue Lies the quest that only we see.
That adrenalin rush A shout or a curse, the rod twitching possessed, Tranquility broken no semblance of hush All steely resolve now hard pressed
Arms aching, back breaking Reel screaming the line pulling so deep, Fish gaining, strength failing Maybe this task is too steep.
We win some, we lose some The joy’s in the chase not the catch, No matter the outcome no semblance of glum And for this feeling there’s simply no match.