I don’t pine for old lovers,
But I do find myself lost in dreams for waters I have left.
My regrets are fish lost, casts blown, unchecked knots, hooks not sharpened.
Some memories are so clear I can place the beads of sweat in their proper places
As opportunity swam away and rejection filled its void.
The names of old flames fade to ash and blow away in the wind.
The water and the fish… they remain.
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