I was seventy and she was eight,
Emily and I had our first date.
To catch a fish was her intention,
She would give her full attention.
We would not be on our own,
Grandad was the chaperone.
Carbon rod complete with hook and leads,
With maggots, cheese and slice of bread,
We hurried to the canal in town.
Small fish dimpled all around.
The hook was baited with a wriggly maggot.
Eagerly Emily cast her bait at the target.
Soon the hook bobbed and disappeared,
A hefty strike, a small roach appeared,
It fell off the hook and got away.
The next one was not so lucky, and came to hand.
It was Emily’s first fish, not big, but grand.
Small bleak, fat little roach and sturdy perch,
We’re numbered in her first days catch.
To take this young lady fishing was a pleasure,
A memory I will always treasure.
Uncle (fishertastic) Dave. August 2006
Written by Dave Cammiss
