PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

When I was a child, my father cut

for me a cane fishing pole.

On many days, the two of us

walked down a dirt trail,

Andy-and-Opie style,

on the mile trek to Arbuckle Creek.

We packed bologna and bread

in an improvised cooler.



I have never, to this day, eaten food

so delicious.



Daddy and I spent many hours on

that little bridge.

I think a special part of my

personality was molded there.

He told me stories from the

Bible, of fish, whales, and

fishers of men.



But most of all, I remember the

laughs we shared.



Long after those years had passed,

Daddy kept my cane fishing pole,

saying that someday we might go

fishing again. We never did.

One day, he cut the cane pole

down, and designed for himself a

beautiful walking stick.



The cane now stands in the corner

of my study, as well as in a

corner of my heart, a constant

reminder of the

laughs, lessons, and love.



I know the time will come

when I will need to lean on

on Daddy's cane,

just I leaned on his strength.



And some glorious morning,

on some golden trail,

fishing poles over our shoulders,

Daddy will tell me again

about the one that got away,

look over at me with that special

twinkle in his eye, and smile.