Her Hook
She was soft and easy
To be around,
A personality, a mind
That drew you in
And looks that made
You wonder how so
Much came in one package,
Somehow she spun
The freedom feeling
Of the grassy banks
Of a quiet river
In a summer
That you knew
Would end,
Like a jumping trout
Who can tell the lure
Is just a lure,
But with the movement
Of her wrist, her cast,
Says what the hell
She’ll through me back
With nothing worse
Than a tender track
Where she set
Her hook.
Stephen Nesbitt ©