By Daniel Mapp
It be not the organ of thought.
But the thumping thing known as the heart.
Cupid love stringing towards it, then after words plays on his harp.
His sailing shaft lands with speed, and it be sharp.
He smiles his eyes at her they be.
Many miles he would take, they be worth the fee.
Smiling he knows she is his everything.
For her all else be worth forsaking.
His heart dry, and dusty.
But with her, he shall be upright and non-rusty.
For he cares for her fully .
Yet he loves her truly.
For he loves her, as the Lord loves earth fully.