Zoe Hart, Master of the ArtEdit
by Tom Long
My heart, it beats like no heart has before,
For she, who’s vowed to cure our beating hearts.
To properly express I cannot start,
Though oft I fear she sees me as a bore!
Zoe Hart, you master of the art
Of curing when all hope is on the floor!
If only I could knock upon your door—
Instead I sit here staring at eye charts.
One day I’ll be the man to catch your eye.
Perhaps a lawyer in a sexy suit.
I’ll move to New York City—what a hoot!
Mayhap I’ll work the ‘ceps both bi and tri?
Don’t know if I can turn myself a brute…
For now I’ll secretly fix your wi-fi.