waiting to be born
we worked both sides of the stream
looking for deep pools to cast our souls
it was late september and a cool breeze
had gradually reddened your cheeks
we had strolled along for an hour now
stopping on two occasions
enticing brown trout to strike live bait
filtered light shone through a network
of ripened limbs losing their luster
revealing a part of you I had never seen
without saying a word we picked up
our things and moved on empty-handed
over the years the stream had changed
but over my lifetime remained the same
looking back I spotted a young me
pretending to be someone I was not
catching my limit in very short order
little did I know you were always near
guiding me back to this solitary place
years before you were meant to be born
december two thousand fifteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
jdubqca 
I’m stunned by this — love it.
Thank you so much, Jave. I appreciate your stopping by to visit and comment.
FAB
Many Thanks Cyber Bonn
I came back to read this again. I love this. Some of it is mysterious to me but that is the allure maybe
Yes, there is much mystery here – I’m happy knowing you enjoyed it.
the unknown, unnamed unborn… nicely done
yes indeed Melanie – thank you for visiting and commenting