Two lovers flirt, then one, now mother, cries:
A tougher birth no-one could ever know.
All over, but that start, those fluttering eyes
Made butterflies fly over the rainbow.
This beautiful new babe could never grow;
Though hurtful to mother, maybe he knew,
Though certain to part, he was of love’s flow,
So up above he and his dart both flew.
Through lightning flash, through thunder, under dew-
Bejewelled blades of grass, here, there he spies
Each flushing lover’s grasp, fair aims his bow,
Enflaming hearts, unshaming gasps: one, two.
And so, when claiming lovers’ parts, be wise:
The skies have eyes. And your prize? An arrow.
Sat 19 May 2007
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