In Fatuous Cupidity

I have a cupid, all my own, he’s not the best around I would have chucked him long ago … but he’s the only one I’ve found His wings look like two dusters that have hung around too long The feathers have no luster and the way they flap’s … just wrong His actions are too stilted and his apathy seems vast His bow is slightly wilted and his arrows are … half-fast In many years of wishing that one missile might strike home I had a premonition I would spend my life … alone But then one day (as if on cue) an arrow slipped his bow By accident it stuck in you above the left elbow Well, that was all I needed I no longer was afraid For my prospects now exceeded every prayer I ever made I grasped the moment promptly just in case it slipped away As my future fait accompli stood before me on that day Now my Cupid keeps a quiver though his shafts are all but spent Still I’m glad he could deliver even if by accident And I won’t complain too loudly for the grief he put me through I’ll just smile and thank him proudly for the wonderment … of you