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by Mitch
Rated: E · Poetry · Romance/Love · #930614
Waiting for Cupid to strike.

Waiting in shadows
And underneath rocks;
Waiting in attics,
Its life knows no clock.
Waiting in books
And on silver screens.
Waiting in ballads
For adults and teens.
Waiting forever...
Or only a day.
Going about
Its own haphazard way.
Flying in myth
With diaper and bow.
Blind in maxim,
It wilts and grows.
It soothes. It comforts.
It pains. It kills.
It has no direction.
It has no will.
It favors many
Like beauty from a rose.
It scorns many others
And never even knows.
It's weak and it's firm.
It's wise and it's shallow.
It's saved many lives
And sent men to the gallows.
Helen knows its started wars.
John professed it would bring peace.
Cleo read it from the stars.
Beauty found it with the beast.

Looking in shadows
And underneath rocks,
I don't have forever
For my life has a clock.
If an arrow flies
I'm never struck.
Can a blind archer aim?
Do I always duck?
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/930614-Waiting