a study toward sonnet #1,245 by FisherKingKQJ
My dear, sweet daughter, spring has buds to bloom
Through trellis colonnades, across wire grail,
The windows seethe black mould and hot air stale-
Go rouse your mum from her en suite room.
You've grown more like her, your hair primed a plume
Of honey tones - such quirks we can't regale-
Not meeting up earlier is what I quiet bewail-
Through you I meet her young, pure love assume.
Go bang that door, do your dad's dirty work,
She's fastidious though lax, takes far too long;
Well placed, our sighs wait on eyecandy perks
Such as might come as curls off perming tong.
As we might forget what she looked once like-
We might guess her young you - a sweet, dear tyke.
(Chorus)
o $10,000,000 like
o $10,000,000 compared
o $10,000,000 matched
[Autocube3 - for 3d interactive movies.]
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