Fishing Poem

Tug, Tug goes my rod.

I think there’s a 3-metre cod.

It just ate all my bait, and it will soon be cooked on my plate.

The fish had a good fight, but it’s time to say goodnight.

It was a good size to eat, but the problem was it stunk like smelly old feet.

The sun is setting and it’s getting dark. I reel in my rod to find a sneaky little shark.

I waddle back home to have a sleep, to dream of cookies and jumping sheep.

I wake up so early I can barely open my eyes.

I peek outside to see dark stormy skies.

I think to myself and make a wish.

Maybe tomorrow, I could go for a fish.