Barnaby Roper



Gone Fishin’


I jumped in a lake,
The first in a while.
A gleaming hook,
Of winning style.

The softest of bites,
Had me hooked for a bit.
As I swam away
It pulled through my lip.

Had I been able to hold
Without a worm
Where might one swim
and under what term?

Above the line
Nowhere to swim
I land in a bucket
Filled to the brim

Pass ion


Rhye -The Fall

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