a study toward sonnet #109 by FisherKingKQJ
Ah, Sappho, forgive my insane outburst.
Against my soul mate. Fibber. Last conquest.
I squeezed his hand my gaze in his immersed,
Against his shoulder my head found a nest.
His kisses were so amorously pressed
A trice I puzzled if my judgement were astray,
Now, just as he grasped me to his chest.
No, no, I could sense his con some way...
In the arbour amid subtle odours of decay
And regeneration, of compost and moss
We surrendered to prolonged foreplay,
In a swirling perfume of roses. To Lesbos
No galley in the King's fleet was to steer
Phaon was for Sicily to advance his career.
{3D interactive chorus:}
No galley in the King's fleet was to steer.
No galley in the King's fleet was to turn.
No galley in the King's fleet was to bend.