30 July 2012
A rod drips in to cool open waters,
Beware, this pond guarded by otters,
Silver fish slip slowly between the eyes,
Some brown, green or blue as skies,
The bait is beauty, humour and wit,
An attitude that makes you look fit,
Looking up to stare, from water to air,
Suddenly, silently becoming aware,
There is something snared, caught,
Wonder, are these the eyes I sought?
Reeling him in, under a naked sky,
He slowly whispers, "You've caught my eye."
Fishing for Eyes • Opuss № I