Ahem.  There truly is no excuse for me.


(sonnet #MMMMMMMDCCIX)


O for the silver foil winged cupids, frail
With arrows on the string, and shooting thence
At blood-red hearts!  Erst wont to trick out hence
My pages thus, I miss them now!  In pale
Excuse, where is the box of hearts t'avail
Our foolish dreams of romance? Ah, fr'intents
How I wish to lay candy hearts out, whence
I'll trade their speeches with you like's sweet bail.
These whitish racks which put the light as twere
Out til day is a fragile thing--I do
Not mind their surly cast.  No choclate to
Assuage fond, erm, desires, no.  I in poor
'Scuse yearn for childish candies wont to stir
My heart with dreams crashed every year now too.

14Feb19a