What?



(sonnet #MMMMMMMCDXXXIII)


So, listen to the furnace, rain t'avail
Beyond, where dark night shrouds what I'd from thence
Feign nestle in, just marching with a sense
Of all we cherished for a minute, pale
Sheer lamplight glaring on the weeds' detail
As if I was but dreaming, sleepers hence
Half paused to hear me rustling for intents
Through darkened rooms, and I can't e'en exhale.
They're all tucked up where last night I as twere
Was first in bed cuz they came back late, to
Be up into the wee hours, I in tour
As late as wont, like tis my schedule through
The years, and crazy as tis rather poor;
And dawn will come when I'm at work.  What's new?

07Oct18b