He was a rock. Never mean.
When she went too far off;
Just slowly he would reel in the line.
Waiting patiently. Her mind running wild.
Anticipation of butterflies and nerves
And half wondering if really means what he says,
Knowing he could have her; whole heart on her Greensleeves.
Caught with a bite, a wild salmon in autumn runs;
All perfect conditions of bluish greenish waters,
And ready for running off into the perfect pinkish sunset.