The Bows Of Cupid Poem by Dowell Oba

A love to uphold
A crush to withhold
From deep within in a shape
So curved, like a bow of grape
Tasted so sweet, like a curly curve
To be called true love.

The bows of cupid
Must have made me stupid
A fool in love, but what, who cares
For your imprints that bears
Good fruits that's juicy
Felt so good, to think it's spicy.

A song of love, a tune of joy
Sang in my heart, for now I'm coy
For the piercing it made might had
Gone so deep, to've made me sad
To hum so cool, my tune of love
Sang tenderly to shapen thy curve

Made by cupid, for a hole so bright
Dug by love, like a light shone white.