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FISHING
It was hot, but I found the right
spot. I made a wish to catch a fish,
in a dish.
" Swish," went my line right into
that pine.
" Splash," in a flash my line made a
dash for the water below.
I shake my head, as I baked in the
sun. It should be the fish that
is cooked not me.
I feel a pull on my line, and looked
to see just what I hooked. That was
a mean trick, its just a stick.
" Ish," look at this! The stick had
gills that gave me chills. Why, it
even has scales,not sails.The stick
has fins, but that's not a sin. Why,
its a fish, and it did not come in a
dish, as I had wished. It was not even
a whale,but I could make up a tale.
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