a study toward sonnet #1,269 by FisherKingKQJ
Seems somehow spirit is at odds with looks
In my dear true love's perfect paradise,
They strand me tingling on sharp tenterhooks
In her gold sparking eyes, they canvas splice.
That's damn true, count me with the sagging sooks
When she's all dollied up and nudging nice,
Her richest ante my dutch courage rooks,
I think her essence hides in heard things thrice.
My love's the brilliant, breathing work of art-
I've eavesdropped her odd whinge a while too long,
I've shared her lecture-like peeves in singsong,
I've caught her crinkling nose, as her soft eyes dart.
I live the briefest wrinkling cross her brow
Doors stuck, dates added, spirit-flesh endow.
(Chorus)
o $10,000,000 brow
o $10,000,000 forehead
o $10,000,000 pate
[Autocube3 - for 3d interactive movies.]
SPADES DIAMONDS CLUBS HEARTS