Commoner Poem by Christan Bowen

if love was a leaf, floating down a river
and cupid fired arrows, from his quiver
who would survive the plague
of love lost or love made?

then when we execute the maneuver
who can win her heart or sooth her?
maybe a man of millions of pounds
he is lust, and will unleash the hounds
but down below theres a field of dreams
where many night it seems he teems
with anger and spirit and screams
come on, let me hear it, it seems

no matter how hard you try
when you live until you die
you must thirst, first
then rehearse your purse strings
someone else sings a song
and you don't belong
right or wrong there is air
that is purified for her hair