#ideasflown
cough, cough
(sonnet #MMMMMMMDCCLXVIII)
Where gloaming's blueish note of darkness thence
Culls oh, electric lights, I close the tale
Of drapes and we hang out in sheer betrayl--
All four of us--whiles I wash dishes, whence
Sweet conversation, or reproof for sense
When I drop lo, a spatula. Detail
Whatever, but twas sweet to thus avail
Ourselves of time together for intents.
Now it's so dark, and I have played with her
Til aught before is lost in how the crew
Of dolls cavorted to her fancies, poor
As aught excuses, I am blank. What, to
Effect, teased for a line hours ere? What'd bestir
While I was working? Nothing's left that'd woo.
13Mar19b
Mar 14, 2019
Mar 14, 2019 at 10:52 PM UTC