[I bet you thought I did nothing all day.]
(sonnet #MMMMMMMDCCLXII)
Mourn in the greyish eye of dawn's void sense,
Those blue skies ere that darkness swallowed hale
Notes of sheer April. Yes. Ignore, t'avail
My soul again by memry, though's pretense.
Grab up the notebook, inking for intents
That thought which last night rolled as if to scale
Across my tongue, how "daylight savings'" bail
Is long since quite forsworn without defense.
Grey racks like Shakespeare knew oft could as twere
Yield heavn's eye chance to slip unknown all through
From East to West preside, and I demur
To catch aught languid note's detail. Thus brew
Morn's pot of Barry's tea, with toast in tour
For taste. And write of yesterday like'd do.
11Mar19b