The one that got away

I feel a small tug
Nibble only
I wait, expectation
Another, stronger
Something definitely there
Hungry, curious
I wonder which
Another yet
Persistent, determined
I tense to set the hook
Waiting for the perfect bite
Alone I sit, solitude
Single loon cries, my guide
I am the bait
Waters chummed with pieces of me
Blood poured on the surface
Cast the line
Small piece of my soul
Tempting morsel
Small price to pay to troll these depths
A hit, hook set
Game on
Line snaps taught
Struggle for life and death
It knows my plan
Introspection then dissection
The surface breaks
Glorious prize as it breaches
Terrible in it's beauty
Dives to escape
Reel whirs, tension mounts
No ground given, none taken
The struggle even
Decision made
Line is cut
The glimpse and fight
Worth the price
I will return one day
Stronger line, better prepared
To catch the one
That got away


I think I knew that this one was going to get away before I started writing so I was not surprised by the end. I did struggle with leaving the lines, "Alone I sit...", through to, "A small price to pay...", where they fell. It seems appropriate to leave them where they are, somehow, even though it breaks the flow and changes the feel. It grows on me now that I re-read it.

I did chuckle at the unintentional rhyme at the end. It seemed a little light heartedness after playing some dark thing.

I wrote another about fear and death, previously posted, this seemed to be going in the same direction but it is not. I'll post the other next. Meanwhile, I'll have to ponder on this one and see where it might take me next.

Jeff.