The Arrow (Poetry)

I did not feel the arrow
I only felt the joy
my heart had no protection
no wisdom to employ

So early in the battle
I fell as if in trance
that little death soon over
love led the funeral dance

The graves are deep and many
where stars no longer shine
regrets pile ten-a-penny
no more no less than mine

That sly deceitful arrow
its tip haunts sore my breast
while ecstasy still lingers
such longing finds no rest