Cupid's Arrow
Cupid stood ready with his arrow,
The Infatuator, poised to strike.
Anon, he flashed a mischievous smile,
And I, determined, turned away.
Yet deep inside, I knew the truth—
He was certain to strike,
It was only a matter of time.
All I could do was make a truce,
The arrow would pierce me just once,
On a day when clouds are soft and white,
And the setting sun casts its golden light.
Birds chirp and twitter,
Humming a tune that mirrors my delight.
Then, I shall set my sail and fly,
To an island where divine pebbles lie.
Let thy arrow bleed my heart,
When the first ripple of fondness touches my feet.
While stars gaze from above, deep and wise,
I will find my purpose in your sweet, greedy guise!
