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Oct 27
These shifts are killing me. Oh well.



(sonnet #MMMMMMMMCMXXXIX)


Where pink is like romance ere daybreak, dense
Wi' import, burning on the East t'avail,
A fire which seems t'oertake the blackness, hale
In what, precisely? youth by now pretense
Is't? On but three hours sleep, I've no defense,
This dragging me along must do sans bail,
As coffee is some dragon I'll to scale
Do battle with when I've some strength for sense.
Tea-lemonade for drowning sailors'd cure
Me halfway, if at all, where Milo's brew
With "Simply Lemonade" I'll take in tour
Along to keep my chin 'bove water. Blue
Heav'ns warm as sparrows chirp likeas to stir
The dead (and I'm death warmed oer): I need You.

26Oct24a
A week ago on so little chance for rest, I was barely able to pull off work and struggled to write one sonnet. Believing this day would follow suit, I titled it thus...to be foiled since tea apparently helped keep me indeed above water.
Jenny Gordon
Written by
Jenny Gordon  49/F/Bolingbrook, IL
(49/F/Bolingbrook, IL)   
17
 
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