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
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