..."they" swear I'm NOT (awake)--as the world is waking on every side as wont.



(sonnet #MMMMMMMDCCCXXXII)


Green is astir, though yellow carpets hence
Look quite as if Death owns the grass' detail
Yet, and I know the violets nod t'avail
Now too.  If only I could finger thence
Those smiling faces!  Walk through all for sense,
Put off this nagging what? that dogs in pale
Excuse my waking hours, or be to scale
The saint I aught to be, in sheer defense.
So, Friday night I played the music fer
All that quite loudly, bobbed to it like'd do,
Stayed up past midnight, and slept like as twere
Some log, but can't shake off this sense that'd cue
Me.  I don't want aught music now.  Tis poor
I'm not asleep, but wish I was 'non too.

30Mar19d