...'non'd solace broken me, no lover 'round to give a hoot.



(sonnet #MMMMMMMXIII)


Me.  Say t'invoke the violets' wonted tale
As if twould be what my soul'd cherish hence
To vaunted heights, aye breathless for intents
Could I but revel in that auld detail
Whose white and purple-striped wee faces' scale
Of sorrow drew me ere I could from thence
Acknowledge th'import's by all counts pretense.
Yea, trounce my songs, and whither to avail?
Should I don overshoes and search as twere
The forest's muddy trails like pilgrims who
Own heavn on earth, we'll call it far too poor.
My sonnets three years 'go belie what'd woo,
Cuz I ****** all joys where Death 'gan to tour,
And wrote to whom is not, that:  I need you.

14Mar18b