By Chuck RitenouR
Love is like a silvery trout, elusive
in time's shallow brook.
Season arrives. In the chilly rushing water
I stand silently with rod and net
Casting and retrieving winter's harvest
of hand tied flies,
but I am an unlucky soul hoping for a catch.
So many seasons have passed and I have
yet to net that most desired trophy.
Resolved to try again, taking
to the swiftest of life's waters
with passion. Once again seeking
the slipperiest of quarries
for I am a fisherman