As I felt the world darting towards me,
I decided, an arrowhead of my own, I have to be.
So my pointed, sharpened edge,
Would be my very own hedge.
Thus I won’t be a cause for disappointment,
Resentment, disenchantment or disbandment.
I believed everything would pass by me,
Streamlined by my arrowhead.
While I was trying to be camouflaged,
And try not to be sabotaged,
You came by,
And got me thinking, “what if I could fly?”
It was almost like you knew,
What as an arrow, I ought to do,
And as I looked closer,
I realised, you were more than just a streamlined passer.
You’d reshaped yourself into a recurve,
Only because you thought I had more to deserve,
So that you could get me to fly,
Without having to wonder if I could ever try!
While I fretted that you’d pull me back,
To the extent that I’d crack,
You knew the involved nuances,
And the imperative precise responses.
And thus I was more than a plebeian arrowhead,
As I propelled ahead.
In purpose, you too are more than a mere bow,
As long as together we vow.