In the quiet dawn, he cast his line,
Where the river met the endless sea.
Gone fishing, whispers the gentle pine,
In waters deep, he finds his plea.
The ripples dance in a sunlit glow,
As memories drift on the morning breeze.
He follows the currentâs steady flow,
A voyage of peace, where all sorrow flees.
The silver fish glides through the stream,
A fleeting shadow in the brightening day.
Gone fishing, a dream within a dream,
Where earthly ties slowly fade away.
In twilightâs embrace, he rests his soul,
Beneath the stars, in eternal night.
Gone fishing, reaching the final goal,
A gentle farewell, in the soft moonlight.