*****

Keeping this picture in my mind, i wrote a small poem; a sonnet to be precise.

---

Over the edge,
I sat across overlooking the river
Tiny fish swimming over the ledge
Holding my fishing rod of silver

Can't wait to take these
Yet to get to taste as I lick
Skin quivers due to the cold breeze
A sudden jolt, as I pull my rod quick

Fishing alone doesn't make me stop
All the while I think about my mom
I look into the bucket, as I flop
The rod into it, as I loosen my palm

Food is going to be a delicacy
As my mom cooks without hesitancy

*****