 |
| Splash! |
Until
I was seven years old I lived in a tiny hamlet deep in the Shropshire
countryside about ten miles from where I live now ‘as the crow flies’. The
house where I lived with my parents was aptly named The Brook House. As the
name implies it was in close proximity to a sometimes over-enthusiastic
waterway, over whose bridge we had to pass on any excursion into the wider
world. I don’t ever remember actually falling in (probably due to an
over-protective mother!), but the usually inoffensive, gently flowing water
inspired my offering for today.
Fishing
Sleek
minnows darted hither and there,
Small
shoals safe under the reedy edge,
As
my shadow dulled the water’s glare,
First
one, then two silver daggers dare
Leave
the slimy safely of the sedge.
‘Don’t
lean too far!’ My mother would fuss
As
she gripped the hem of my light blue coat,
‘It’s
a long drop down, and dad would cuss,
And
of course the blame would be on us
If
you get wet! Only fish can float!’
I
wriggled further over the wall,
Dipped
fingers in search of the squirming stash,
I
seem to remember a distant call!
‘I
can’t hold on! You’re going to fall!’
Accompanied
by the inevitable SPLASH!
Thanks
for your time!
The
Leebotwood Poet xx
