Do NOT enquire regarding the title.
(sonnet #MMMMMMMDCCCXI)
O rain! I'd plans lo, in the werks--t'avail
Me of the naked woods in tour fr'intents
Of violets. That is lost as I mull thence
The joys of sitting on the stoop's detail
Jist to, erm, breathe. And lo, in sheer betrayl
To write THAT kills the chance as twere, as hence
Those priceless minutes are most strangely whence
I canna say, lost--more in tow--sans bail.
Yes. It is freaky. Why'd my earring, fer
All that, fly off?! Just where I'd rush out to
That spot and settle me to breathe in tour,
Lo, how I spent it praying, and searching too.
Rain slipped off on the wings of gloaming, poor
As all MY dreams. And I was laughing. You?
24Mar19c
As panda bear loved to say, "It's a secret!" Or, that's what befalls idiots who stay up after hours? P.S. a continuation of the previous stanza.
