FISHING STORIES CONTEST

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MY ENCHANTED BROOK

there was a time in my life, when life was simple and free,

when life was young, and it felt,that this was, the only life fer me.

i rode my painted pony, bombfire peggy jo, took laddie john. a bordercollie shephard mix,

the sleepin bag, my .22 rifle and fishin pole.

wind blowin against our face, bombfire runnin hard and strong,

to the beat of her hooves, she was singin a song,

for she, i and laddie john, and

all of us can,t wait, to git to our special place.

there,s a little pasture down over a bank, tall pines, 'ol maple tree 'n my 'ol brook, a peace and serenity, that just won,t quit,

i take bomb's dle and bridle off, she kicks up her heels from the spirit of freedom she feels, i , fer i feel it too,

laddie grabbed the sleepin bag, and i grabbed the pole,

and down to the brook we,d .go, stayin there fishin, till night would unfold.

laddie and i had the fish i caught, bomb was happy right where she was at, and

the red tail hawk that was soarin above, was tellin bombfire to scare, a treat

out fer her,

i start the campfire, fight with laddie john fer the sleepin bag, use the dle fer a piller,

and settle down fer the night. the stars are shinin so everlastin and bright,

i,m thinkin of all the cowboys and indians who did this,same, only before,

so i hold onto these nights, to the three of us, for i,ve learned in my life,

just what to treasure.

the bear on the mountain callin to a mate, the rustlin of the bushes, when the deer go out to the field, and bombfire whinners,

the coon chatterin his song to another in the tree, tellin him it is only me.

the hawks outline, alongside the brook, he,s eatin the scraps i left, as so many times before.

so this is my story, a story, embeded deep within my heart mind and soul,

just a life with three painted ponies, dogs, and my fishin hole,

and the enchanted brook, on the old brook road.













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