Sonnet #26
Sometimes I feel trenchantly insecure.
Slouched on a chaise lounge in the study lair,
Engulfed by shame, she's golden, fine and pure;
Say gurus oversweet is pain past care.
From playful eyes I might then disappear
In patterned velour dyed cyan or bolder,
In armrests of curled oak, I might repair,.
Slow down time so the insult might moulder.
Should I puff on a spark in the smoulder?
Her brown eyes glitter, where I'd expect strife.
She pats on my shin, taps on my shoulder...
I mouth mute words for the superficial life.
I've got my lovely warm girl on my knee:
This joy no mother-in-law could stymie.
{3D interactive chorus:}
o $10,000,000 stymie.
o $10,000,000 blockade.
o $10,000,000 deter.
[Autocube3 - for 3d interactive movies.]
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