Wakeful Mornings

A youthful Cupid found himself alone:
His mother, dallying with Mars, was gone,
And all his human toys asleep or grown
By ancient age too listless for him. Dawn
Was rising slowly in the east, and he,
Languid and bored, wandered without aim.
Then suddenly his blind eyes lit on me,
Awake perforce and subject to his claim.
But as he bent his bow to shoot me down,
He noticed something lodged within my breast,
And with a piqued but empathetic frown
Witnessed a prior arrow in my chest,
And turned, and flew away, knowing I woke
Only because of his previous stroke.