Fish Story, A Whopper of a Tale
I imagine that I must have surprised you,
What with your waiting game, your sport.
You exhausted me with your angler's skill.
You had me hooked, long on the line,
It was the lure, you;
I swallowed you whole.
I had not seen the great barb nestled in the fly;
Your beauty, I had become prey to it.
You must have realized, you must have known,
How beautiful you seemed to me,
How you dazzled, your shimmer, it fooled me,
And I ate you right to the lead sinker.
I was your catch.
I believed every thing you said.
Who might have divined it?
Given the great tensile strength of your nylon-reel wire,
Hard to phantom that I could break it;
But I took a deep dive toward bottom,
Then I broke surface with a five-foot leap above water.
A loud snap announced how taut had grown the tension.
All at once boat and bait had lost all connection.
Who would have envisioned it?
I swim with that hook still puncturing my mouth.
Your fisherman's string, its segment,
It still runs along side me for at least a yard.
My injury, it hurt me, and I shall have to bear
Its scar, the remnants of this encounter for life.
Yet I have set myself at liberty, yes,
Free to travel world's grand and open ocean seas.
And may I ask, again, take a moment, please, consider,
Who would ever believe my, this fish story!
But it is true; I broke the line.
I have broken from you.
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