Or, the kind of page which you find buried out of sight cuz it wasn't fit to be seen.



(sonnet #MMMMMMMDCCCLV)


O let me roll his name in sheer betrayl
Across my tongue and savour that fr'intents.
"He" turns my storms to sunshine with a sense
Of happy songs in every step, t'avail--
With just that note "he" cares is't?  Swear I've bail.
I yearned to crawl off somewhere to weep thence,
But "he" stepped out to smoke, and all cleared, whence
Dear me!  I've nary tear to shed, to scale.
Don't tell me tis a dream I'll rue in tour--
Note how "he" called "his" fellow--was it to
See that "he'd" culled a smile by that as twere?
Go laugh at me, and give your lectures through
Experience and etcetra.  Though tis poor,
Nor sense:  I'm banking on "his" caring too.

05Apr19a