My Little Archer

                                               Photo credit: Maria Cecilia B. Villarosa

My Little Archer
(Sonnet Form)

By: Noel N. Villarosa

April 24, 2017

I am not cupid with wings to snare

I stood to trust with my dominant eye

My arrow’s end reaped a feather from lair

Grasped the bowstring, appeared ready to vie

Released my strength and listened to my breath

As force was pulling it down to the ground

That challenged distance and danced to death

Arrows braved the wind and fled being drowned

My creed will not fail in hitting the mark

Object remained aloof from where I stood

Aimed the high and enjoyed the morning lark

Dreaming one day to hit like Robin Hood

Whispered the bullseye to catch my arrow

Or hang my quiver and try tomorrow

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