First Trout - Greg Tims

It laid upon the water, that ragged fly I tied;
I had cast it toward a midstream rock where surely Trout would hide.

The fly, it drifted slowly as it neared the hidden lair,
but currents played against my line, I just knew I would despair.

Then suddenly the surface splashed nearly scaring me to death,
And, surprisingly, my fly was gone leaving me far short of breath.

I felt a tug then raised my rod and downstream he did streak
Taking line from my old reel while my knees became so weak.

He pulled, I eased, he eased, I pulled - this seemed to take forever,
Then with one final valiant leap he surrendered his endeavor.

I reeled him in and stared in awe as I eased him toward my net,
He was the first I caught by fly, I would always be in debt.

So carefully I removed that hook admiring his every inch,
He seemed to know I would put him back since he didn't even flinch.

Now every time I fish this stretch I seek him high and low,
And pray that rainbow aged with me from thirty years ago.