The Fisherman Poem by Patti Masterman

He's more dangerous than most;
With him, your heart's already toast,
For he knows, just how women think;
He writes his poems, to capture hearts,
Which he enclose, with careful art:
Your heart around his own, in knots
He sees the tears, hears each sigh,
Knows soon enough that you've been caught.
He knows all your armor chinks,
And with his pen, he makes a hole
Looks straight in, with his flashlight
And then, he just reels in your soul.
He writes too many love poems
But they're his stock and trade;
It's much too late to worry now,
Your bed's already made.