My note on this reads: "shoulda been 01Apr19--begun just after midnight turned"
(sonnet #MMMMMMMDCCCXLI)
The Cardnal called as twere for me in pale
Dawn's early light--just once--as if for sense.
And lo, that line I'd penned in tribute thence
Comes to the 'fore--"...I've got [in sheer betrayl?]
A scarlet lover--" which I swiftly hail
With prayrs of "O! please give me to from hence
A man, LORD!" and how April Fools is't? dense
Wi' import finds "him" where I cherish...bail?
"Say twas an April Fool's joke--" in a poor
'Scuse for my prayrs and hopes keeps rolling through
My mind, but I dare NOT write THAT down. You're
Allowed to laugh. Nor Cardnal, sparrows to
Aught purpose cry...until "he's" gone. I stir
Me to weak smiles, cuz my heart's weary too.
02Apr19a
Ahem. The fun angle of this week's passel of damning stanzas is watching the tale unfold. Take it or leave it.