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
Copyright © Noel Villarosa | Year Posted 2017
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