Write a dark poem…
With Dad’s passing heavy on my mind, it seems that everything I write is dark. I tried to lighten things up by writing about the opening day of trout season. He wanted to go fishing, but now, there is no chance of that happening.
April rains, with fishermen, each year the same.
And this year your eyes lit up with just that wish.
You retired, that fishing sport would be your game.
Smiling, so excited to go out and fish.
Asking daily, for a license in my name,
No, I had not yet, but knew that was your wish.
Now you’re gone, but how I wish you could persist.
Sadly like the fish, and you, my chance is missed.