sonnet #1,620
I'm living proof of how things wrongly read
Can turn out fine; at first you may well fall
In love with wrong impressions, little said,
Quick prejudice, quite hard to overhaul.
At social do's and don't's, to which I'm lead
I'll take her coat or cap or gloves or shawl
She's glamour girl next door, else drop dead-
I don't know which, admired by wags and all.
She'll slink first into empty, eerie rooms,
She'll burst first into such a busy crowd,
To undermine old me, yet I'm quite proud
Of her, my safety valve, whose love presumes.
I'll flop drunk on our wobbling water-bed,
Curl with this girl who's got a swollen head.
(Chorus)
o bed
o couch
o divan