Itís All His Fault
Itís all his fault my dayís in disarray;
My heart sighs and my brain is apt to stray.
Wild highs ignite my eyes with starry skies
And swirls of butterflies, to my surprise,
Perform a belly-fluttering ballet.
The fact my faculties have fallen prey
To cheers of hip and chortles of hooray
With dizzy, giddy airs I canít disguise
Is all his fault.
It happened on a grey, umbrella day;
A Botticelli cherub flew my way.
He drew his bow to agonizing cries
Of, ďBring me lips without the sting of lies!Ē
Post-arrow-pricking traits are now in play.
Itís all his fault.
Susan Jarvis Bryant
If you have any thoughts on this poem, Susan Jarvis Bryant
would be pleased to hear them.