My Quill Softly Weeps

by | Jul 20, 2012 | Poetry | 0 comments

Bereft of flighted arrows from my heart
Mine quiver has played host to Cupid’s bow
To pepper targets ‘oft times leagues apart
Perchance to reap, what dreams alone may sow
Above yon’ grey and cloudy sky they home
To wander through such time as deemed awry
Alighting down uncharted paths yet known
Embrace the Fletchers art if thou espy
Oh woe is me, my mind doth sometimes say
When falling short of hoped for just reward
Existence may be deigned to play one way
Tis ‘oft times due in part, thine own accord
If e’er such time my life may seem fulfilled
The truth will out, upon the parchment spilled


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