Oh
Eros, your arrows must fly to her true,
and
thoughts of love contain.
The
first sight she sees as barb breaks through
must
will her this ardent swain.
A
shaft sent awry, if someone’s nearby,
could
send her love off to another.
A
gaze at a mirror with someone else near her
and
she just might bed her half-brother.
This
worry, I think, could drive me to drink…
I
question the skill of your aim.
The
stupid doubt Cupid, but I tend to think,
I’ll
pray this terse verse fans a flame.
Visit http://allthatrhymes.squarespace.com for more poetry by The Laureate.
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