The father was a fisherman…the weekend could never come too soon
for he loved to drive up to the lake and fish under the moon.
The son was not interested in catching fish…but for him the weekend could never come too soon
for when he accompanied his father up to the lake he couldn't wait to catch the moon.
The father often wished a fisherman his son would one day make
but the son seemed much more interested in catching the moon reflected in the lake.
One day instead of handing his son a fishing pole on a quiet moment afloat…
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem