a study toward sonnet #1,159 by FisherKingKQJ
Poor Thingy, pixillated paedophile,
Jailed at last for just knowing what he was doing-
Afraid of more recent chums rougher suing,
From Boys Brigade drawn, barracked rank and vile.
He taught me backstroke, butterfly, freestyle,
His hand in my race togs as the rudder queuing,
From young boys huge, courageous men hewing,
With arm twists, winks, a beatific, small smile.
Lovesick, I'd dawdle near my dreary home,
His two tone Minx would soon pull up the drive,
Admire the dense comb over of his dome,
Beneath his intellect I thought I'd thrive.
Was moot he questioned their mental fitness,
He forgave detectives, was witness.
(Chorus)
o $10,000,000 fitness
o $10,000,000 balance
o $10,000,000 wellbeing
[Autocube3 - for 3d interactive movies.]
SPADES DIAMONDS CLUBS HEARTS