Fly away, all you swarming Cupidos,
don't you know you are anachronisms,
flying there over your just born mother,
and there should only be one of you;
go, or I'll take my own bow, of stronger
make, and shoot you down one by one,
so as to enjoy the charms of paint made
flesh without you mosquitoes of love.
07.-21.08.2024
Poem Poems Poetry Verse
#Poem #Poems #Poetry #Verse
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