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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Romance  |  House: Red Wolph Literature

Consider, my friend, the Cupid
Who arrows the faint of heart,
Not ready to love with abandon,
Afraid to risk their part.

He strengthens the wills of the weak
With a dash of piercing fire,
Loos'd from a bow of love
And sunk in the seat of desire.

For eons he's been shooting thus,
A barb for every kiss,
But, with every shaft his aim's been true,
His tragedy is this:

Who will loose a flame for him
And set it in the heart
Of some fair maiden with an eye
For Cupid and his art?

Whose locks can ever he caress?
Whose lips can melt his soul?
Whose fair smile can turn his fears?
Whose kind voice can console?

He has no beaut to sway his thoughts
From ever-arching bows,
And, if such worries trouble him,
No disconcertion shows.

His furrowed brow betrays him not;
He works each gritty day,
But who will ever ask him
For how long his love delays?

So one day you may see his eyes,
Aflame with passions thronging,
But in the corner you may note
A tear of ageless longing.

Submitted: August 03, 2018

© Copyright 2020 N. M. Rudolph. All rights reserved.

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