Cupid's Aim

CUPID'S AIM Here are the hearts and roses I might send, wrapped in a tapestry not meant to see, depicting Cupid's aim, at someone's friend, who's unaware of what's about to be. I visualize the scene, and know it well, that arrow tearing deep into the breast, a poison tip, the ringing of the bell, the dizzy feeling, helplessness at best; in cold of winter, most appropriate, for love, the warmer of all things divine, to come along, as if it hadn't yet, allowing us to send a valentine. The day will echo love songs light and deep, and sweets will tease the palate and the tongue, while someone's heart, falls to uneasy sleep, and breaks no matter if they're old or young; in this, the tapestry, I wrap the rose, and bury it into the deepest part of all I am, and will be, I suppose, where it will keep, forever in my heart; and on this empty day, when Cupid nods, acknowledging what love is bringing on, while laughter from Olympus, Grecian gods, are pleased with how their little joke has gone. © Vee Bdosa the Doylestown Poet