Cupid wrote a poem
Hefty in the shape of hearts
The mischievous wind grew jealous
Plotting to scatter his heartfelt leaflets         ÂÂ
Not remembering their order
He sorted them best he could
The wind laughed at his misfortune
Proud of its spiteful deed
Cupid's Devine arrows ached
Hanging their head low
They no longer shot straight
curving around the wind
Anxious, time loomed ahead
He made haste
Flapping his wings shooing the deceitful wind away
Deepening the depth of his heart
But alas, he could not recapture the feeling
No,
Not like it was before
Not without fear of loss