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.