Max Parriott


The Fishermen - Poem by Max Parriott

Leaveth me in gentle sleep.
No wet upon my cheek.
Perhaps the ripple of a lake.
Will calm the patience of my wait.
For the fisherman and his line.
He'll need no bait.
I'll not hesitate,
to be hooked and then entwined.


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Poem Submitted: Tuesday, May 10, 2011

Poem Edited: Wednesday, May 11, 2011


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