The Greenest Cherub

Green cherub,

Inaugural jaunt from womb, as

Proud papa watches from the not so far

 Shifting cirrus weaves its charm,

Blending spheres into one,

Eros, as he too is called, wriggles toes

Through fluffy nests, delaying the nature of his quest

Fumbling arrows from palm to palm, giggling as

Feathers chance upon his chin… abruptly

Altering his pose, he stands on bended knee,

Watching, waiting, trembling patiently

And so his eyes gently set

Upon the two objects for which he’s been sent,

Fingers press the tightened strand, gently strumming

To get the feel, quivering…

His eyes adjust to midday’s ray,

Blurring drifts, then spots start their fade,

He breathes in deep, then makes a sigh,

Knowing from his action, two lives collide

But for the better, that is what papa says,

But uneasily he plucks the arrow from its

Sheathing, pausing only temporarily, to notice

It’s quickly jagged split of seam, it’s violent tip of

Tempered steel…quivering….

Arrow postured, straight…aligned

To the heart of he and she,

Forever they’ll live thankfully

Wings so tiny, fluttering swift,

As his fingertips extended the cord,

Altering position for one view,

Setting swift the arrow to the wind,

Quickly…

Piercing…

Skin…

Green cherub in the cloud,

Cheers a dance and papa’s proud,

Then looks below, to see the love he gifted these,

Instead of ceremony, he flashed forward to a deadly day,

Where one lover destroyed his bride to be…

Aghast he peered closer still,

Noticing the man was not the man he first did stare.

This is the origin of ill-fated romantic ventures.