Toy Soldiers

We wither under love’s beckoning call,
assembling like toy soldiers
against its swath to fall.
Reasoning takes flight
when love comes to call,
with lowered defences
it scales our castle wall.
Resistance is hopeless
when cupid’s arrow has struck.
We just fall in line
and pray to lady luck
that this love calling
has no spattering of pain
that only joys of happiness
it will bring again and again.

16 July 2008

poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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