Softly, slowly, straight arrow surely,
  Less delinquent, more demurely,
The banishment of bonnie's braces
  Leaves perspective in their places.

Man's ages curl, and crash, and flo,
  And childhood can't escape the tides.
A jester stares and his pupils grow,
  Covers his eyes with his hands and hides.

"The apple's fallen from the tree;
  The chip is off the block, and me.
An arrow's loosed into the wood.
  It's fallen, and the flight's no good.

"She was the apple of my eye,
  And Cupid's proven blood is thick.
Yet she has no scars of days gone by --
  Can love's cuts also heal to the quick?"

Incredulous, he tucks his chin
  To search out scars upon his skin;
There's not a one. His looks and feels
  As smooth as hers. He cries. "Time heals."