I dont fish well
I cast a heart strung line

Where I think she may be swimming
Near some old stump

A downed log
Where local birds perch

Hoping to pluck a passerby
to take home

But I send my line
With good intentions

And when my line jigs
I reel you in

Anticipating a kodak moment
I lift you up

Only to find
My hook is covered in muck

I’m left standing


On the water’s edge

I wonder… 

Where did all the good fish go?