Recurve bow drawn.
The hunter eyes his quarry.
He watches her
Standing there, innocent.
He releases the string.
As the arrow approaches
Her doe eyes widen
With surprise.
The arrow hits the
Tree right next to her.
She stares at it
For a moment.
Slowly, carefully,
She removes the parchment
From the shaft.
In beautifully elegant script
Is a written message.
She smiles at her nervous
Huntsman and nods.
The words reverberate
Within her mind.
'Will you be my valentine?'
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