If this pool were not so placid
That one glance revealed your grace
Would it's bowered fishing banks
Be more your kind of place.
Could you get your favourite rush
Where one swipe will fill your net
From waters teeming generous
Leaving idle hours yet.
Would you think better what you sought
If it never took the bait
Or loosened it, off the hook
Like the one that got away.
If your line was taut
Braced heels, knuckles white
You struggled with the reel
Uncertain of the fight
Would that one that you caught
Catch your eye perhaps
Amongst the flailing silver full
Pen of writhing sprats.
I doubt that.
You would, on your way
Come again, back to these glades
One day, to cast your hook
If there was one that got away
If there was one that got away
You would
I guess
Love me a little more
If I loved you a little less.
