Icarus fashioned an arrow made of lead,
With a bow of such fine yew he could not hope to miss.
Thinking with his heart and not his head,
He would shoot down the sun for his love, his first kiss.
Of course the arrow missed, and shot instead a deer.
A perfect hit, a fine clean kill
But Icarus began to rage, not in anger but fear
That his love would disappear over the hill.
So in his frustration and unquenchable lust,
Icarus crafted a pair of wax wings to take flight.
He was convinced they would work, he thought they must
Help him soar up high, and for his lover steal the sun’s light.
Apollo looked down to lowly earthly Icarus with scorn.
A prayer to his God may have done the trick
But stealing the sun could not be borne
Thought Apollo, not by Icarus the maverick.
Back on Earth, Icarus in his haste and folly
Did not even bid goodbye to his love
Leaving her behind in sweet melancholy
As he rose to meet the birds above.
Higher and higher he flew, twisting and turning
So high in the sky, he was almost at the sun
But as his fingers clutched at the star, he felt his wings burning
Melting as he cried out her name, all his dreams undone.
Crashing to the earth, Icarus died
And Apollo was satisfied, his work complete
The would-be thief had been all but fried.
His body looked like a rack of barbecue meat.
Icarus’ lover was bemused; she did not understand
Why he who had gone to such trouble to unlock her heart,
Who had soared to the sun to win her hand
Had acted as aggressively as Napoleon Bonaparte.
For truth be told she preferred jewels and gold
Than the light of the sun, a romantic she was not.
It was treasure she desired, to make her beautiful and bold.
So she journeyed over the hill, seeking brave Sir Lancelot.