Sonnet #44
I'm so tired of you acting jealous sleuth;
I've stopped sugaring the stems of flowers
In vases while your genial lack of ruth
Now even an agape love palls and sours.
Ten years ago you let me taste your youth:
The bloom is off your cheeks, to be uncouth...
But your compound critique hurts just as much-
Watch: into potplants goes the dry vermouth.
You're never more the squeezable nonesuch
The smirks betray your habitual slick touch;
To stymie you I'm working longer hours-
I'd sooner smooch our mutt in the hutch.
Gripe won't be worked up into earnest spate:
Love platonic I've wrapped inside a crate.
{3D interactive movies:}
o $10,000,000 spate
o $10,000,000 burst
o $10,000,000 rush
[Autocube3 - for 3d interactive movies.]
SPADES DIAMONDS CLUBS HEARTS