silhouette of man holding fishing rod
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The trouble with my tackle box

Is a vexing one to me

Hooks and sinkers,

Swivels and lines

And lures like potpourri

Trays that flex above one another

A myriad supply within

Lures that float

Some that sink

Others with props that spin

And what is it that’s so attractive

When into the water it goes

A glitter or flash

A color or splash

In this, I say, who knows

But as the sun sets at the end of the day

And I reel-in that famous last cast

Knowing it’s a lie

As fishers, you and I

Just one more – I’m having a blast