At the touch of my fingers I send my heart to her
Target the sweetness that lay inside
Escapist arrows flung toward a goal of hope
My senses are keen yet my aim falters
Stones thrown in my head obscure my thoughts
Tis' a battle of dim wits I fight
Charging to the front lines with my quiver of feathers
Attack Attack Assaulting the foe again and again
Her cover so dense airy plumes fall harmlessly
And then the weight sets upon her defeated
The taste of victory bitter to my lips
Triage to the rescue of my maiden
At battles end a bloodless field surrounds them
Daybreak brings hues of hope both victors proud
This war of love shall not cease
©rad063008
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem