It was one of five

            And smooth –

            The only clues –

            Which were enough for me

            When I was full of beans

            And sowing oats and

            Couldn’t count the blessings

            That rained cats and dogs

            On every sunny salad day of love

 

            To calculate the density

            And shape from what I knew

            Of slings and youth

            Was child’s play

 

            I called upon my father,

            The geologist, to break the news

            With my beloved in tow,

            Wincing a little for the man

            Who never had a woman on his arm

            To make him tall and

            Therefore turned to stones

 

            My prototype impressed:

            The very absence of his praise had

            Proved to me I hit the mark

 

            But when it came to a discussion of lethality

            He asked in parting,

            As we stood upon the threshold,

            If I’d given any thought

            To Cupid’s dart