sonnet 25.4.13.

Indeed the bright peacocks soft hue pea hen
Struts foil to him she loves the sparkles less
In her own right in his grand shade express
The trophy bride whos coveted by men
Last count of classic cars there were but ten
The mansions my electoral address
The stud and stables breed great race success
A plot is hers in name one stroke of pen
She asks me do you find me beautiful?
She asks me did you like my little joke?
She asks me did you rate my roast cuts cool?
She asks me do you clap my overcoat bespoke?
Shes perfect set high on a pedestal
I placed her there with ardent wherewithal
Chorus pedestal stand block