A Quiver of Arrows
For a loving purpose he was,
Delicately and divinely molded.
Crafted from the heavens,
A winged infant blindfolded.
Sent for our romance,
Naked and fat, he descends to us.
He carefully lifts his bow and
Shoots an unsighted arrow, plus.
The arrows are tipped with love,
Then we fall under a spell.
In love with a significant other,
For love in the air, is the smell.
He then swiftly fly’s away leaving,
A greater fortune than the tarot.
Crafted for a loving purpose,
Cupid darts a quiver of arrows.
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