Love like the Arrow reins, bows the eye, then,
aims its prey; pace in veils with timely lace
as circles courtly sharpen feathered pens;
brow strings the eye, bites above the base.

Man and Woman, all alike, likewise like
to wisely tend the glow, in realms confined,
until stars, in due time, so decide
tempers to align, with fair, or vice, design.

...this false, approach me Love, and prove me wrong,
disarm, hand me arrow, bow, then, quiver;
am I right if I say, Love, you´re , in shivers?
Forge us Amour, Love, forge us, with a Song.

Lessons learned, we now pretend its peace,
until the fine prints ink, turns bleak, armistice.