Wandering far from home
Glistening streams of ice
Sliding down; I cannot fall
Though the powder seems real nice
My legs complain, fingers groan
As I ready-up my line
Attach the hook, lower it down
See it, through the ice, shine
The cold waves throw themselves
Against the rocks firm stand
Darling, I wish you were here
To clasp your gentle hand
My line moves no more
Just swings in the breeze
And the sound of my melodies
Whistling echoes through the trees
I am done with my time
But I dare not reel in, see
The fish have sticky socks
And I’ve nowhere to be
My line still stands taunt
For me, I let life go
My whistling’s gone, but
My story lives on, that
I was once fishing in the snow