A gentle breeze
carries the smell of Spring
across the lake
and through the reeds
where insects make their home
and I think of you
The fish has a healthy glean
as I bring him up
into my waiting hand
and I open his belly
while on the hook
there is nothing there but weeds
and muddy sand
I think of you
After 30 years
this place remains in the time we spent
laughing and drinking wine
kissing
you liked it when I stroked your face
with the back of my warm hand
trying to balance our little boat
in this big lake
where the water is cold
and deep
Another fish
his belly full of sand
like all the others
my own stupid fault
keeping the boat out too late
after the sun had gone down
that hot Spring night
I think it was those crickets that saved me
waking me just as our little boat tipped
but you my love
in your dress and heels
unable to find the boat in the dark
then coughing water
and that final splash of your hand
I could hear but not see
and you drifted under
Now I sit
in our little boat
and dream of catching a fish
and in his belly
are all those weeds
and muddy sand
along with your ring
and I will know it is yours
because it is engraved
my darling I am yours… always
Ground to Ground 
Oh my, this is so sad. Lovely.
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Thank you very much.
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Oh, Shane, this of yours is so beautiful and so sad… to be unable to let go of the memories of that night… like living in a nightmare. Well done!
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Hi Denise, this was a challenge to get through. I normally read out a story 3- 5 times during the edits, and then a final read through. Each time when reading those last three lines it really did bring up strong emotions. In manspeak, that means there is the possibility that this author got teary eyed, but he would disavow any knowledge of said crying. If you empathise with this character, how can you not moved by the nightmare of his existence? I hope he finds that ring one day, and with it his peace with his one true love.
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in the belly of a fish… lovely intro of soft lines…. finding a treasure… where once was lost now found… love is perfect no matter where one drifts… pescador
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Such wonderful romance a trip back in time not to be forgotten!
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Indeed 🙂
Thanks Amanda.
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It’s a mild sort of insanity, trying over and over, expecting a different outcome. We can waste a lot of fish that way.
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It’s safe to say that he had a mild case of everything after all those years of looking. I wonder if he even ate them, or just threw them back in with their open bellies?
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At first I began to question, “Why would you go back out in that boat?” But, then, as you knew that would be the question. You answered, making this a very satisfying read, even though sad and filled with sorrow.
Elizabeth
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Thank you Elizabeth, if it made you feel something, then it was worth the telling.
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oh my, this starts out delightfully, with the gentle breeze, the smell of Spring, the fish’s healthy gleam – and turns sad so quickly with the story of lost love and emptiness… a good response to the painting that served as prompt.
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the mud, the sand, the ring and the drowning…I must not forget the fish and the boat….all these resonated with me…
After my sloppy attempt, I found yours very very good. In the dark way. You know what I mean…
http://firmlyrooted.blogspot.com/2010/09/about-fish-chips-and-nothing-else-much.html
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