Fishing For A Wish

I fished for the pike,

while I silently sat

on the large gray rock.

I held the red, metal fishing rod,

as I listened to the sweet voice

of the little splashes,

and tiny lake bubbles blowing.

I saw tall, flashy, pine green trees,

quaint riverside cottages,

and wooden ochre huts

scattered along the glimmering cobalt lake.

I heard the swishing

of the neon orange sparkly fishtail,

and chubby lips

going for the wormed hook.

I danced

to the chant

of the misty breeze,

and countryside wind

travelling around and around

the little, serene, rural Canadian island.

A fisherwoman’s wish came true;

I caught an electric yellow pike,

as I waited and waited

to feel a bite!

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