Over fifty years ago a boy named Bri.... lived in mid-New York.
One day he took a pole to a pond and caught a fish, not pork.
After hooking it, Bri thought.....that playing the fish could be a chore,
so Bri yanked HARD on the pole. The fish flew through the air, landing on the shore.
This year Milt's son Brian, five years old, Old-Bri's sort-of namesake,
went with his family for two weeks to Minnesota and a fishing lake.
A prayer was said, the line was cast, and Young-Brian settled in boat to wait.
And, golly gee, Brian did catch a fish.....much TOO BIG for his plate.
I'm sure my friend Milt was excited, as you'd expect a dad to be, and.....
Brian's eyes were "saucer-sized"....as God and men could see.
(July 6,2013)
Very exciting for the young fella to catch such a big fish. I wonder if he has the same sense of humor as you Bri.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
a poem that sounds a bit fishy to me (flying fish in New York?) but then there again I Believe some things are heaven sent like a big fish for a little boy with a future tail to tell? Sir Bri of well written!