The Fisherman

A poem about my abusive ex, and one of our bonding times that turned to just another thing I yearn to forget someday.

gentle water splashes the embankment

as it runs its course downstream

trout peak their heads just above the surface

the sun slowly drops a sweet kiss on the hilltops

tints of orange and pink streak the sky

iced drinks, Springsteen on the radio

parking by the tracks

close enough to feel the next train's rumble

his vest jingles with his fishing gear

an enticing song I used to love to hear

walking side by side

light conversation

sunglasses tinting away 

the view of his eyes from me

those eyes I used to find appealing

now terrify me

from smooth casting

to lines tangling

tranquil nights sitting in our chairs

waiting for the jingle of bells to sound

through the cool summer air

signaling that first catch of the night

his was always first

no matter what I tried

silent bonding turned

to constant bickering

those calm evenings of fishing

turned to tense moments

I just wanted to pass

with the gentle stream

Reviews

[Relic]

I enjoyed the image. Thanks for a nice read.

[PlayWrite]

tense poem underneath the nice imagery

i guess this is what you were going for