3 Dimensional Interactive Movies

a study toward sonnet #226  by FisherKingKQJ
 
The thin legs and arms I near loved are gone,
The dimpled curt smiles I caught once or twice
Are gone,  so too golden tresses which shone
In immaculate braid, or plait, or splice.
Her identical twin is spoken nice
And society's disease is hindsight plain;
It's easier to cuss against jumping dice
For suicide, misadventure, cruelly slain.
I know I'm the open link in the chain,
That I puzzle what might have been much
With Plato's perfect heaven on the brain
And miss perfect mundane doubles as such,
And from my guitar mutely squeaks a strain
Of epigram, a sad, aspiring touch.
 
And from my guitar mutely squeaks a strain.
And from my guitar mutely squeaks a phrase.
And from my guitar mutely squeaks a riff.