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Literature Text
FISHING
Fresh grass, crushed down by my feet as
I carry my tackle and pole to the quiet
Stream, where my bobber and bait
Hit the surface with a splash
In this warm summer air, watching the fish as they gently
Nibble on the delicatly placed bait,
Giggleing as I pull in the catch of the day
Fresh grass, crushed down by my feet as
I carry my tackle and pole to the quiet
Stream, where my bobber and bait
Hit the surface with a splash
In this warm summer air, watching the fish as they gently
Nibble on the delicatly placed bait,
Giggleing as I pull in the catch of the day
Just me getting bored in English...Although this acctually turned out OK. Teel me what you think, sould I do more poetry?
(Yes I know, It doesn't rhyme. Not all poetry does folks, it's called free-style)
(Yes I know, It doesn't rhyme. Not all poetry does folks, it's called free-style)
© 2010 - 2024 Moonshard123
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