Dreaming In The Dark
Waiting for a fish to bite the hook,
The old man sits still on the bench.
The blue campfire behind him
Holds hands with his shadow.
A seagull stares at the fishing pole,
Wondering what is it for?
Wind blows on the old man’s beard,
Telling him to leave.
The old man falls asleep with
His hands grasped on the pole,
But the fish never comes,
Just like the dawn from the dark.