Sonnet #71 by FisherKingKQJ
Your musical career has come to nought,
Time has proved you copiously mediocre,
Oblivion has staved off what you wrought,
Your fiftysecond card you've turned a joker.
I've a true love who supports my music,
It's her passion, she doesn't play a note,
A passion aside crotchet, stave and rubric
And on her small mysterious moves I dote.
In the wrinkles of your pursed lips lie sneers
I'm silent: condolence you want to hear.
Fisherking heals his friends, neighbours, peers,
Not fame but immortality is heir.
My love tugs my sleeve to bid you adieu,
I spend one nod on your duff notes in lieu.
{3D interactive chorus:}
My love tugs my sleeve to bid you adieu.
My love tugs my sleeve to bid you farewell.
My love tugs my sleeve to bid you goodbye.