A Boy, A Rock, And A Fishing Pole
With tackle box and favorite rod
The young boy knows the way.
A place to fish, a place to dream,
A quiet place to spend the day.
It really doesn’t matter much,
In rain or hot sun.
Yes it’s true, he came for the sport
But mostly he came for the fun.
He takes his place upon the rock
That nature has carved smooth.
Trusting it will always be there,
For years, his rock has never moved.
Baiting his hook, he gives a sigh
Sitting down on his rock.
He tips his cap a certain way,
Resting his legs from the long walk.
Fond memories and great stories
Made here beside the stream,
But most of all he’s found a place
Where he can always come to dream.