Again Cupid strung His bow, another sped my way, again it hovered, poised to strike, and quickly flitted away. Thus Cupid's arrows continue to leave me high and dry; always giving new hope, then silently flit by. But wait, one flutters past, I see the arrow veer; unwaveringly it strikes a target that is near.
I note the one beside me has now felt Cupid's sting, and fail to see the arrow that tugs my own hearts' string. The arrow came so quickly, it sped so true and fast. Happiness finally came my way, love is here at last.
By F. W. (Lucky) Hope
