Apollo and Daphne*

"What are you doing with bows and arrows, you naughty?"
Asked Apollo, to Cupid, oneday,
Apollo, haughty, as  he was of his prowess,
"On my shoulders can they only rest"
He did the assertion,
Cupid blinked, just, smiling,
"i, can make you win Daphne"
Said he, the naughty boy,
Who had always played with arrows,
Of Love, as toys,

"Really?"
Apollo was amused ,

Cupid , the little boy, angelic,
Made a golden arrow stick
To Apollo's Bosom right,
Then on, something strange did happen,
Apollo started his pursuit,
Of Daphne, the daughter bright
Of none other than , the River God,
Peneus,

In Daphne, how Apollo found everything,
So he was , by Cupid's stupid arrow golden got Bemused,

And Daphne, was also hit, the same,
With an arrow,( not so same)
Leaden thing it was,
Daphne could never tolerate the Sight
Of Apollo's might,

Apollo , however,
Was not ready to lose,
His ethereal Lover,

To Daphne He vowed
"Always my hair
will have you,
My lyre,
Will have you,
My quiver
Will have you,"

But then,
Daphne,
Poor she,
How could overdo,
What Cupid had to her sent,
Leaden an essence,

Caught betwixt
Thus, two opposing
Forces, How could she pass
Her days, without worries,
Her angst, piteous,
Moved Peneus,

He stepped in,
And turned His daughter ,
To a Bay Laurel one,
Which can always remain
Green, the forever thing,

And Apollo went pleading
To Her,
With the lyre
Hanging in His hand,
Daphne, He simply couldn't forget,

There,
Near the Bay laurel tree,
How Apollo could see,
His favourite, Daphne,
And Daphne, how being so made,
Looked back at Him,
With love filled eyes,
How they both there remained,
Like a story of Love, never to die.

(*Note : the painting attached is commensurate with the Myth as made into a poem/scribbling,
Artist : J.W.Waterhouse.)