I Was A Fisherman Poem by Thomas Hooker

The spinning reel burns,
the pole swings
forward, as a line is cast out,
fools troll for lost days found,
for I was a fisherman many years ago.

Into the nights reflection,
glistening diamonds
move deeper into cold water,
seasons pass and
children grow old,
for I was a fisherman many years ago.

Roads dissect before they merge,
turning into separate lives,
each novel unto them self,
moving together with the wind,
ending up in a new place,
for I was a fisherman many years ago.

Along a birch path,
I traveled back to the twin lakes, where an
old man navigated this forest again,
who is this child of years,
understanding my time,
yes, I was a fisherman many years ago.