A Fisherman's Widow Poem by Edwina Reizer

I have lost my husband to the fish out in the sea.
They have surely hooked him just as he hooked me.
More than fifty years ago when we two had wed.
“I’m going fishing.” Are not words he ever said.

The things he used to say were “I have to cut the grass,
Or I hope this paint I’m using is really gonna last.”
When his work was finished, his time was not his own.
It was spent on pleasing me or back to the old grindstone.

Now, when our two sons came along, their interests varied some.
One was into baseball and my husband became a baseball bum.
He must have thrown a ball to him 200 times a day.
And then when that was over he’d go and watch him play.

Our second son played music on a great guitar.
And when he started playing out and had to travel far,
Guess who became the roadie and packed amps for the gig.
There was no thought of fishing, a lure or little jig.

But ah! When he retired and found time to come and go.
Guess what happened to me? I became a fisherman’s widow.
You may think it makes me sad, but actually that’s not true.
I am happy that he’s doing what he loves to do.