My Little Archer

My Little Archer I am not cupid with wings to snare I stood to trust with my dominant eye My arrow’s end reaped a feather from lair Grasped the bowstring, appeared ready to vie Released my strength and listened to my breath As force was pulling it down to the ground That challenged distance and danced to death Arrows braved the wind and fled being drowned My creed will not fail in hitting the mark Object remained aloof from where I stood Aimed the high and enjoyed the morning lark Dreaming one day to hit like Robin Hood Whispered the bullseye to catch my arrow Or hang my quiver and try tomorrow April 24, 2017