With firm yet gently hands he stood,
Cradling an arching shred of wood.
Not as the archer prepares for the battle,
Or as the hunter with quiver to saddle.
But as a dad with a young infant child,
Nurses it gracefully, tenderly mild;
When the trusting one drifts off to sleep,
The adoring father beams without a peep.
Written by Loyd Taylor, February 2010
After reading the Guitarist Tunes Up, by Francis Cornford 1886-1960, I was inspired to write the Archer.
The Photo from photobucket provided by insane_gamers_unite
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