Feb. 27th, 2013

peteyfrogboy: (rook)

From Cupid’s bow there flies a dart,
And where it lands shall romance start:
Eternal lovers, strong and true,
Or passion’s pawns, thrust deep into
The storm tossed sea without a chart.

Yet paramours are seldom smart;
They drive the horse behind the cart
And later curse each shaft that flew
From Cupid’s bow.

Love is not science, but an art;
Not every hind will find her hart.
The arrows miss, or strike askew,
And when they fail it falls to you
To seek out other ways apart
From Cupid’s bow.

Mirrored from Lorenzo's Workshop.

peteyfrogboy: (rook)

From Cupid’s bow there flies a dart,
And where it lands shall romance start:
Eternal lovers, strong and true,
Or passion’s pawns, thrust deep into
The storm tossed sea without a chart.

Yet paramours are seldom smart;
They drive the horse behind the cart
And later curse each shaft that flew
From Cupid’s bow.

Love is not science, but an art;
Not every hind will find her hart.
The arrows miss, or strike askew,
And when they fail it falls to you
To seek out other ways apart
From Cupid’s bow.

Mirrored from Lorenzo's Workshop.

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