Through my fish eyes I see
A fat worm on a hook,
It looks tasty to me,
So I take a close look.


Itís a lovely earth tone,
Tapering at both ends.
It could be mine alone -
In school are all my friends.


Iím playing hooky, see,
If youíll pardon the pun.
So, no sharing by me,
No, not with anyone.


I make a sudden dart,
Brushing it with my gill,
Giving the worm a start,
Toying before the kill.


While it wriggles around,
I just canít help the thought:
A fine feast I have found,
But might I not get caught?


That sharp hook is a threat,
Tied tightly to the line.
Though it seems hard to get -
I yearn to make it mine.


At last I take the plunge,
All caution thrown aside,
With a desperate lunge,
My large mouth open wide.


The hook catches my lip,
The worm is torn in two,
The line tightens its grip.
What a dumb thing to do!



© By Richard McCusker (Rmrickmack@aol.com)











A Different Voice ( 5 Authors )



The Presence and Absence of Summer



Studio Portrait ( 12 Authors )



Satin Sheets



Today We Live



Deaf Music



Red Rose, Red Rose





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