Fish On

Hey Freddy, want to go fishing tonight?     
Sure Dad, what time?
I've got plenty of bait, I'll pick you up at nine
Surf fishing out on the beach
Trying for fish, sometimes just out of our reach

I watch as you cast your baited line out
It's clear to me how, you outcast me now  

Passing ships, shooting stars in the night
Fishing with you was a true delight

My face is stained from crying my tears
The best of my life, was your eighteen years    

Fish on was the cry when the rod bent
Always a helping hand, the other lent

I still set up your empty chair
Because I know you will always be there

© Fred C. Fischer 2024