a study toward sonnet #894 by FisherKingKQJ
Things that I believed would last forever
Moulder, rust, ferment, peel, rot or crumble;
There, Time manages to grandly sever
Me from you, though we're ever so humble.
What I thought would be our final rumble
Is some rigged match, we roll on the punches;
Can love win over where we totter stumble,
Are shaved points as good as inside hunches?
Humour is what now saves us in bunches,
And count in safety nets and lightning rods,
And airbags, too, which spare us sharp crunches,
Then, sudden death is merely meagre odds.
My love, you're magnetic as chequebook ink,
In memory banks prove a drawcard link.
(Chorus)
o $10,000,000 ink
o $10,000,000 dye
o $10,000,000 paint
[Autocube3 - for 3d interactive movies.]
SPADES DIAMONDS CLUBS HEARTS