Pretending, feigning. I said that was the rule of the day. cough,cough
If we forgot the merry dance erst thence Wont to ring in this month which Shakespeare's scale Of notice put down as not lo, t'avail As perfect as whom he thus cherished, whence? The winds are ghostly with a teasing sense In tour of fragile warmth as sparrows hail. Then ah, the Goldfinch seems to laugh, th'exhale Likeas a whisper who maunt love from hence? Did I swear I was "done pretending" fer Which moment? Yet who shall not smile now through Th'effect of these sweet songsters? I am blue And would far rather weep, but tears as twere Won't come. A robin scolds and scents astir Upon the wind's suggestion say twon't do.
Because I told myself I'd NOT write to, nor about...you. Because you know good and well that I care so much about you that it makes me want to weep. Or didn't you know that? *NOTE: I began the following sonnet first, but couldn't bear to finish it.