PCB
By J.H. Bevels
The waves roll and pound the shore
They sing to me, come down once more
You caught them the last time
You’ll catch them again
In the bay where you can see their fins
The reds, the blues, and the specs too
All out there waiting for you
To cast a top water near their lair
And then at night such table fare
So my bags are packed
Tomorrow I leave
When I get back I’ll have tales to weave
Not a tale of my days at sea
But a tale on the bay
Just my friend and me.
