a study toward sonnet #606 by FisherKingKQJ
You swoon my honey from afar not sic,
You can never take her away from me;
You wouldn't want her fatigued or else sick,
When she's tired or ill she needs caring me.
She dots on, then smooths in carressingly
Concealer at high colour or blemish,
Until mirror wings and portrait do agree
One hundred and eighty points do cherish.
My friend, your fancies of her now perish,
Submit to apple cheeks bronzing brush,
The outer skein devolves into fetish,
You're lazy in this myopic mute crush.
If my wild honey wears her birthday suit,
She's sometime grumpy, or sick, or hirsute.
(Chorus)
If my wild honey wears her birthday suit. SPADES
If my wild honey wears her birthday apparel. CLUBS
If my wild honey wears her birthday garb. DIAMONDS
[Autocube3 - autocue for 3d interactive movies.]