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The Gift of Eros


The Gift of Eros

Aloft flies Eros; mischief fluttered wings
With silent rustle whisper overhead
By arrows pierced; the hearts of knaves and kings
The chilly grave, the restless lover’s bed
Blue London air, red Piccadilly light
Above the shifting crowd and constant noise
In summer heat, in neon and the night
He aims his slender bow with perfect poise
Aloft flies Eros; underneath his feet
As shadows of the Circus slowly shift
I contemplate my own love, bitter, sweet
The wound that Eros wrought in me, the gift
And as I turn my tears up to the sky
A pigeon drops an arrow in my eye

by Gail



















Copyright © | Year Posted 2015




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Date: 2/10/2016 1:53:00 PM
AMAZING THAT NOBODY COMMENTED ON THIS SONNET WHICH IS SO CLEARLY A TRUE GEM. A7 AND ANOTHER FAV FOR ME TODAY. Your sonnets are truly exceptional IMHO.
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